Butcher or the Cattle
by Peachuzoid
Summary: It wasn't just the women who were attacked at Terminus. Those weeks they were held captive, it changed everyone. Especially Gareth. (Rated M for violence. No pairings. See author's note in chapter one for more details.) AU, in which Gareth lives. Revamped. Discontinued.
1. Chapter 1

**Update: Chapters 2 and 3 have been deleted.  
**

**The backstory goes until chapter 8. Rick and the others come in around chapter 9 and onward.**

* * *

_Prologue_.

He had lost track of time. How long they'd been stuck inside that dark train car, his brother sitting across from him, was unknown. And for the most part, it was quiet. It made time seem to stretch on even longer.

Except for the screams.

The screams of agony. Of terror. The cries and snivels among those that were trapped in that boxcar.

The few remaining survivors of Terminus.

But he was smart. He knew. He knew without anyone saying a word, without any sort of explanation, what this was all about. What was _happening_. To their fellow survivors. Friends. To his own mother.

All because of those goddamned signs.

Because of hope.

_We were trying to do something good, Gareth's own words resounded in his head. The words he had spoke to his brother just earlier that day. We were being human beings._

Where did that leave them now?

Gareth started to slump further against the cold wall, eyes shut tight as he slightly buried his face in his hands. Tried to tune everything and everyone around him out. It was useless though. Because the screams still penetrated his ears. And the laughs. Those god awful laughs spouting from those sick bastards.

It made his stomach churn.

Gareth startled once he heard someone approaching. The rickety train car door was pulled open and just the slightest bit of light seemed to filter in from the night sky. Upon seeing his mother, he shot forward, he and Alex just catching her as she all but fell into the car. Scared, rattled to the core, bruised.

Gareth paid no mind to the man that had escorted her back in one piece. That was just it: one piece. It was how he had to look at it. Because it could have been worse. She was shaking something fierce, nerves shot and uncontrollable whimpers escaping her lips. Alex had mostly pulled her into his lap and Gareth found himself grasping a hold of her hand.

"It's okay. Mom, it's okay," Gareth tried. They were all a bit banged up. The initial attack on Terminus wasn't pretty. But she looked so much worse now than she did before they took her away what felt like hours ago. He squeezed her hand. Tried to ignore the visible blood and splotches of purple. Echoed, "It's okay. It's okay…"

There was a creak in the floor and a shadow was cast over Gareth from his left. He turned his head slightly to take in the man's appearance: slick black hair and a malicious glint in his eyes to match the grin slowly forming on his face.

The man stooped down. Grinned even wider. "No. It's not."

He practically laughed as he brought his arm up—the one holding a heavy flashlight—and smacked Gareth upside his head, knocking him flat on his back. He'd almost swear the crack of the impact echoed through that car.

There was a collective gasp between his mother and brother, but Gareth didn't register much other than that. His head was spinning, he felt sick, yet he didn't waste any time getting right back to his family's side. He felt his mother's hand graze his bruising cheek just as another woman was taken from them. Screaming.

It was all like a game to them.

The door slammed shut, leaving everyone in pure darkness once again. Gareth, knowing the responsibility fell on him being the older brother, took it upon himself to try and stay positive. To try and stay strong for them.

He found his mom's hand and squeezed. "We're gonna take it back. We will."

* * *

Gareth awoke in a daze. His back was propped up against the wall next to Alex, their mother still pulled in close. There was a moderate amount of light beginning to peek in through the cracks of the train car, suggesting that they had made it through the first night alive.

Gareth had begun to doze off again, eyes heavy, until the door was opened with such a force it rattled the entire car. Mary had crawled into a sitting position and sandwiched herself between her sons as the man from last night made another appearance.

The first thing he noticed was that it seemed eerily silent. The second was that the train car was down to just the three of them, Albert, and Martin. All of the women who had been taken hadn't returned. All except Mary.

The man stepped into the car, his stare lingering on Mary and causing her to shiver. Alex wrapped his arms around her, pulled her closer. But Gareth knew that wasn't going to stop this man from getting what he wanted.

Gareth got on his feet and blocked the only two people he truly had left in the world. His arms down at his sides, he balled his hands into fists. And though the guy had a good few inches and pounds on Gareth in comparison, he looked the man dead in the eyes.

What no one seemed to know was that Gareth had stayed up most of the night thinking of a way they could make their escape. A way that they could take Terminus back. He thought the sharp chunk of wood he was able to get off of one of the inside corners of the train car would suffice, having used his belt to work it free. Now it was hidden up his sleeve.

The man took another step forward and Gareth quickly dropped the makeshift weapon down into his palm. All within one swift motion, Gareth had made an attempt to stab the guy while the man simply grabbed a hold of his wrist, stopping the assault and violently twisting Gareth's arm.

"Gareth—"

He tried to fight through it though. He didn't let go. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed onto the man's arm with his free hand and struggled to bring his twisted arm back upright. The pain traveled down his arm and into his shoulder the longer he drug it out and the more force the man used.

Gareth received a knee to the stomach which ultimately ended the quarrel, unexpectedly driving the wind out of him as he dropped the only piece of hope he had at killing the man. The knee was followed up by a gratuitous punch to the face before he was rammed backward into the wall beside a frightened Mary and Alex, who were both on their feet now.

The man gripped Gareth by his chin. Slightly turned his head to the left to gauge how bad his face looked after yesterday's incident. It was only going to get worse—the swelling and the aching, the bruising.

The pain.

There was the sound of a gun cocking and Gareth ripped his attention toward his family. Mary had the piece of wood Gareth had dropped, her hand shaking and tears in her eyes.

"Put it down. Put your hands in the air and get on your knees. Both of you." Another man who was perched outside, the culprit of the loaded gun, spoke up. The firearm was pointed at them.

"Just let him _go_," Mary's voice was just as unstable as the rest of her. Gareth could visibly see her fingers tighten around the makeshift weapon all while Alex cautiously put his hands in the air to surrender.

The man slowly turned Gareth's head back to face him, leaving Gareth no other choice but to look back at him. It was in that moment that Gareth had never felt so small in all his life. He couldn't fight this guy. Not head on. He didn't stand a chance.

The smug, evil smirk didn't help matters either.

"Mom—" Gareth started, shutting his eyes. He nervously licked his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling like sandpaper. "Mom, just drop it and do as they say."

It was silent for a beat. No movement. No 'clunk' of wood hitting the floor. Only the huff of breaths and sniffling from Mary.

"I ca—"

"_Just do it_," Gareth raised his voice, cutting her off. Almost immediately after, the wood chunk bounced off the floor. Glancing over, Gareth noticed she had listened. She was on her knees next to Alex with her arms slightly raised, lip trembling.

And without warning, Gareth had been ripped off the wall by his collar. Thrown toward the exit, into the light. He stumbled, having almost lost his balance due to the excessive force, before there was a hand tangled in his hair.

A cold blade pressed to his throat to ensure everyone's cooperation.

It was only just the beginning though. And had Gareth realized that at the time, he wouldn't have tried to put up such a fight in the first place.


	2. Chapter 4

They had hauled him off by the back collar of his shirt. Though Gareth was happy he was finally being returned to the railcar, it also made him feel sick to his stomach. The fact that the sun was so low in the sky meant that _hours_ had passed. And he had been taken sometime around sunrise.

Almost an entire _day_.

And he'd have to face his mom and brother. He didn't want them to have to see him like this. Especially if his reflection in the water was anywhere near accurate to what he saw himself.

The door was ripped open and Gareth was tossed back inside like a ragdoll. While a good source of light was still shining its way in, he had caught the look of horror on both Mary and Alex's face as they jumped to their feet.

A look he soon hoped to forget. And never see again.

Mary had taken a couple steps forward, almost cautious. Gareth couldn't meet her eyes though. He looked away—anywhere that wasn't back at her. Ended up focusing on the ground by his feet.

"Gareth…" Her hand reached out.

There was a hand on either side of his head then. But not from Mary. No, it came from behind him. Ripped his head back, lined up straight with his mom in front of him.

"Don't give mommy the cold shoulder. Look at her. She's upset."

Gareth tried to pull the hands off his head, tried to look away. But Chris held tight. Painfully tight. He caught a glimpse of Mary holding a hand over her mouth, fresh tears running down her face. And that was enough.

"Why don't you tell her how your day went?"

Gareth shut his eyes. Slightly shook his head.

"Tell her it'll all be okay."

He couldn't stop his lip from trembling. Couldn't will the events of today out of his head. Couldn't stop shivering.

Chris smacked him. "_Tell her_."

"It—it'll be okay. Everything will be okay," Gareth quickly spit the words out without a thought. Whatever would satisfy Chris and get him to leave. The sooner, the better.

He could hear the sniffles coming from Mary and Alex. Both too afraid to say or do anything.

"You've got a good son here, Mary. He listens to orders. Does as he's told." Chris removed his hands from Gareth's head. Wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Ran the backside of his knuckle down Gareth's cheek, nice and slow, before shoving him forward. "Hell, I'd even go as far to say he was a better fuck than you."

Gareth briefly fell into his mother's embrace before he snapped. He regained his footing and whipped back around in record speed.

Everything seemed to blur at that point. He could feel hands on his arms and gripping at the back of his shirt as he lunged at Chris. Heard Mary and Alex scream his name. There was a mess of limbs, fists flying. Gareth had made contact a few times, taking Chris by surprise, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Felt a crunch when his fist made impact with Chris' nose.

He received a few blows himself; a couple to the face, one to the chest. Everyone was yelling, tangled together in a brawl with no end in immediate sight.

Until one of the men outside of the railcar had smacked an aluminum baseball bat against the frame.

Gareth found himself being pulled back, arms wrapped around his waist, hands grabbing his still flying fists. He struggled to get free of their grasp. Tried to push the hands and arms off.

"Gareth—Gareth, _stop_."

He stopped thrashing at Alex's voice. His breathing was erratic as he watched Chris pull his men off the railcar with him, nose gushing blood. Leaving without a word.

And he was _pissed_.

Pissed that Chris left like a coward. Pissed that he didn't have any control over their situation. Pissed that he couldn't protect his own mother and brother.

_Pissed that he was so defenseless_.

Gareth pushed himself away from his mom and brother the moment Chris and his men cleared the railcar. He stumbled towards the wall, almost clinging to it for some form of support, dry heaving. And with every time his stomach tried to expel itself even more—unsuccessfully—his head pounded and his chest burned.

Gareth tried to blink the tears away but he couldn't stop them from coming. He couldn't stop the sob that suddenly wracked his frame, or the way his legs collapsed from under him without any warning, leaning now against the wall.

Alex joined his side and Gareth could see his hand linger in the air, trying to formulate a comforting gesture. But Alex refrained from any touch, placing his hand back down at his own side. Practically whispered, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, Gareth."

* * *

It was fairly quiet the rest of the night. Nobody said anything. Mary nor Alex asked about what happened. And Gareth didn't tell them—he would never tell them.

He supposed they got the picture though, after what Chris had said.

They huddled up in the corner of the railcar to keep warm. Trying to keep the thought of hunger at bay. Mary had Gareth pulled against her, her arms around him, his head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, back behind his ear. Brushing his damp bangs out of his face. And while the touch was meant to be comforting, Gareth couldn't help but flinch.

It wasn't just the touch though. It was the fact that she was trying to comfort him. He should be comforting _her_. What happened to him shouldn't bother him. He shouldn't _let_ it bother him. Because he had agreed to it. Mary didn't ask for what she had been dealt.

"What do they want with us anyway? Why not kill us and just take everything," Alex finally spoke up from beside Gareth.

Gareth wanted to answer him. Wanted to say, _it's because they're a bunch of sick fucks_. But all he could think was,_ it's because that would be too easy, and where would the fun in that be?_

"Alex," Mary warned. She didn't want to talk about any of it. And Gareth was thankful for that.

* * *

There was a loud _clang_ that stirred Gareth from his rest. His eyes slowly fluttered open, partially squinting due to the sunlight that was leaking in through the open door. It took a moment for his brain to register the dark figure quickly approaching, and even longer for his body to receive the message: _move_.

Chris grasped onto Gareth's ankle and pulled him away from Alex and Mary in one fell swoop as they too had a bit of difficulty coming to and trying to grab him back. Gareth tried kicking to get the man to release him but Chris ended up dropping him about right in front of the railcar door.

Gareth turned his attention to two other men, two from the previous day, loaming above him as he was sprawled out on his back. He quickly tried to scoot his way back and get to his feet just as they each grabbed him by an arm. Pinned him against the wall, half blinded by the actual sunlight.

That was when Gareth got the chance to really look back at Chris. The scowl on his face, dark circles under his eyes. Busted nose.

And just that little bit provided him with a swell of pride.

"I'd like to have a captive audience for this one. I think it'll really add some… flare." His lips slowly upturned into a smirk. He extended his hand at his side, drawing Gareth's attention to it. Gareth hadn't noticed another guy standing just off to Chris' right, slightly hidden behind him.

The light reflected off the object being passed to Chris before Gareth could make out what it was. His eyes grew wide, sinking his back further into the wall if at all possible.

"Now, I'll be generous. I'll give you a choice: arm or leg?" Chris slightly spun the aluminum baseball bat around in his hand. He pointed to his nose, grinning. "Seeing as it's only fair."

"Don't you touch him!" Mary roared, thrashing to get passed one of two men who made sure neither her nor Alex tried to interfere. "Don't you _fucking_ touch him!"

"Shut her up..."

And at the command of their leader, one of the men backhanded Mary with enough force to send her stumbling. Gareth fidgeted as he watched that same man grab her, put his arm around her from behind and cover her mouth. Alex tried to stop him but ended up getting knocked back as well. His arms were wrenched behind him. Both of them being forced to watch.

"…I want to hear him scream."

Gareth turned his attention back in front of him. He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists. He didn't know what he thought he was going to accomplish—him versus Chris, a baseball bat, and four other men—not including the two holding Mary and Alex.

"Don't!—"

Everything happened so fast.

By the time Gareth had caught Alex's brief plea, his arms had been freed and the bat was coming at him. He instinctually threw both his arms up to protect his head, the metal smacking against his left arm. Chris swung again, connecting with his open side, dropping Gareth to his knees. All he remembered was shaking something fierce, eyes squeezed shut, arms in the air to deflect any incoming blows that Chris could land to his head.

When the bat connected with his left arm the third time, he heard the audible _crack_. Gareth shrunk to the ground completely, screaming in pain as he curled into a ball the best he could, arm pulled protectively against his chest. His vision was swimming, dots racing around in front of him. It was like he couldn't hear anything. Like the world had been muted, save for the ringing in his ears.

He'd never had a broken bone before in his life. Well, not unless the time Alex accidentally broke a couple of his fingers counted. It was stupid, really. But Gareth stuck his hand in the bedroom door anyway, _trying_ to get Alex to talk to him after their dad walked out again. Alex had just wanted to be left alone.

It was his own fault. He knew that door would slam shut.

Alex just kept apologizing profusely for the next two weeks. It wasn't like it was a big deal though.

Just a couple fingers.

Hands were suddenly back on him, the pressure on his face and on his shoulder. He was rolled onto his back, his left arm still cradled to his chest. He was able to make out the slightest glimpse of Alex hovering over him until his arm had been shifted.

Then everything just faded to black.


	3. Chapter 5

As Gareth started to come to, he could hear muted voices on either side of him. He tried to tune into what was being said but everything still felt so distant. There was a pressure on his left arm. Someone moving it. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, uncomfortable. Let out a small groan as he slightly turned his head to the side.

He gasped when a sharp pain suddenly swept over his arm. His eyes shot open, breathing quickened. Feet searching for purchase so that he could sit up, pushing the hands away from him the best he could with only one arm.

"Gareth, it's us! It's just us!"

Alex was slightly hovering over him on the right, Mary on the left. Both sat next to him. Both with worry etched on their faces.

"I know, baby. I know... It hurts. I'm sorry. But just try to rest." Mary placed a cool hand against his forehead. That instinct all mother's had. Like waking up from a nightmare, only to discover it's real.

Gareth tried to lift his left arm out of curiosity, as if the pain wasn't enough to go by. He wanted to see how bad it was. But Alex quickly grabbed that hand, keeping his arm sort of pinned to his chest. He glanced down to see that his brother had actually removed his outer shirt and used it to wrap his injured arm, along with his belt: the only items they really had.

"It's the closest we're gonna get to a splint... Or a cast..."

Gareth shut his eyes and nodded. Appreciated that they were both trying to do everything they could with limited resources. But the moment he awoke feeling that pain, he had already come to terms with the fact that he'd probably never be able to use that arm again. Or at least not to its full ability.

"How bad?" Gareth looked down at his wrapped arm. Then to Mary and Alex. Tried to read their expressions, knowing that they would probably lie. Try to make him feel better.

Alex glanced over to their mom. That should have been the first indication it was bad.

"We didn't..." Mary searched for the words. Her hand brushed across Gareth's forehead again, pushing his hair back, a sad smile on her face. "We don't really know. It didn't look too bad. But it might need... set."

"Then do it."

"Gareth..." Alex's face fell.

"Look, I know what I'm asking. And I wouldn't ask if the circumstances were different. But it's either you or them." Gareth licked his lips. A nervous tick. He tried to ignore the constant stifling pain radiating in his left arm. "...And I'd prefer it wasn't them."

And just the look on their faces had him regretting every word he'd just said. He felt almost _selfish_. Because how could he ask them to do that for him? They knew just as well as he did that it would hurt like hell. And yet here he was, asking them to do it.

If they didn't though, chances were pretty slim his arm would ever be properly set and have the chance to heal.

"They're not gonna lay another hand on you." Alex spoke up before Gareth could take his words back. Gritting his teeth. _Angry_.

And anger was only good for one thing anymore.

Gareth shook his head. "You can't stop the inevitable. And don't try, either."

"Like hell—"

"Anger only makes you stupid. If you try attacking, you'll only make things worse." Gareth wished he had only realized the truth in his own words sooner. He wouldn't have lashed out, at least not nearly as bad, and he wouldn't have received the whole "eye for an eye" treatment.

"We can't just keep standing by and letting them do whatever they want, Gareth."

"No... It's exactly what we need to do." Gareth pulled himself up into a sitting position, hissing in pain. He could feel Mary providing him with support by placing a hand on his back, Alex gripping his right arm. "We give them this, we do everything they want, they let their guard down."

"We'll _die_." Alex was staring hard at him, fear evident in his features.

"We won't. I won't let that happen."

* * *

Huddled in the corner, the rattle and bang of the railcar opening stirred them from their sleep again. Gareth felt the blood drain from his face as Mary pulled him closer, terror washing over them. They had just fixed his arm the best they could not too long ago: set it and wrapped it back up with Alex's belt and extra shirt. Hoping to keep it immobilized. They were just starting to feel… at _ease_. Because at least they had been given a break for most of the day.

Only this time it wasn't Chris. It was a different man. And he had a plate of what appeared to be some sort of meat.

He only smiled as he set the plate down. Backed out without a word, locking the door.

And there seemed to be a collective growl coming from their stomachs at the savory smell.

Alex fidgeted beside them, eager. Gareth wanted to tell him not to eat it. To just let it sit. Because he had a bad feeling about where that meat came from.

He didn't want to acknowledge it though. He couldn't think about it.

They were _starving_.

So, Alex managed to scrabble his way over to the plate and bring it back, hands shaking as he stared down at it. He looked to Gareth for approval. "It's not like they could poison it, right? Or even if they did, it's not like it would be a bad thing…"

Gareth vaguely nodded.

* * *

It was late in the night when someone returned to the railcar, the door opening and a beam of light landing on the empty plate just in front of it. An almost muted chuckled followed by a heavy footstep as the man entered the car. He shone the flashlight on them in the corner, partially blinding them, leaving them with no other option but to squint back.

"Warms my heart to see this tight-knit family unit all curled up like a bunch of kicked dogs." Chris lowered the flashlight down at the ground. "I'd have to say, you're the most entertaining. The others don't even try struggling anymore."

Gareth was still pulled back into Mary's lap with Alex huddled close to their side. Mary wrapped an arm around each son, hugging Alex closer, her other arm protectively across Gareth's chest with her hand gripping his shoulder. Everyone curling together even more than they already were.

"I'm just glad to see you three eat. You must have been famished. With everything you've been through…" Chris approached them, pulled at the knee of his pant legs before squatting down to their level about a foot away. He immediately locked eyes with Gareth before looking down at his arm, Mary's hand digging into Gareth's shoulder.

He continued, grinning, "How's the arm?"

"Leave him alone," Alex spoke up.

Chris rolled his jaw before smacking Alex across the face with the flashlight. "I wasn't talking to _you_."

"Alex—" Gareth reached his right arm out beside him in an attempt to kind of shield him. He felt Alex grip onto his arm, letting him know he was okay.

Mary gasped, trying her best to keep both of them pulled to her as close as possible. As if they couldn't be taken away from her if she did.

Chris chuckled as he straightened out his back, towering over them again. "Speaking of arms… Oh, what was his name… David? Not too bad if I do say so myself. Judging by the empty plate, I'd venture to guess you thought the same."

It was silent as the words processed. Gareth shut his eyes. Shook his head in disgust and disbelief. Alex gagged and Mary kept repeating: _no, no, no._

David Cornett. Early forties, had a daughter about Alex's age. They came from Macon. Followed the tracks, found the signs. He was a _good_ guy. One of the first who had joined them at Terminus—he and his daughter, Ashley.

Another innocent among the dead.

"_You're sick_," Gareth hissed, lip snarled.

Chris turned back to face him after having reached the door. _Smiled_. Like he was proud of it. And just left without another word.

"Did we eat—" Alex cut himself short, voice shaking. "What did we do?"

"No. No…" Gareth tried to stay stern. "We did what we had to do. To _survive_. We didn't have any other choice."

"But we didn't have to ea—we didn't have to do… _that_."

"_We didn't know_…" Mary whispered.

"Just—just stop. There's no point in feeling guilty about it. What's done is done…" Gareth's eyes ended up landing on the empty plate. "We just have to keep moving forward."


	4. Chapter 6

The next morning, things resumed as they had the last few days. Chris came back with three men. Ripped the door open. Tore them apart, away from each other.

Gareth dug his heels into the ground the moment Chris started heading for him. He slightly turned away from him in an attempt to shield his left arm, sinking further into Mary's embrace.

"No—you leave him be!" Mary hugged him tightly to her chest.

Chris grabbed Gareth by a handful of his hair just as Alex tried to pull Chris off of him, already on his feet. Another man pulled Alex away just as quick though, and Gareth had turned enough to where it left his injured arm vulnerable. Chris released his hair as a searing pain jolted through his arm, the grip having been replaced as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Gareth couldn't help but scream in pain, being dragged to his feet and wrestling to get free. It was a feeble attempt much like all the others though, and in the struggle, Chris had tossed the makeshift splint to the ground. Alex and Mary were yelling broken threats that only landed upon deaf ears, restrained.

Chris threw Gareth at the wall and he swore he never cursed his reflexes so much in his entire damned life. Gareth immediately pulled his left arm back against his chest as if the wall was on fire, biting back from screaming again. When Chris applied his weight against Gareth's back, Gareth tried his best to balance himself, keeping from smashing his arm with his right hand planted firmly on the wall in front of him.

Hands traveled up Gareth's shirt, gripping his hips. Pulled him back and pushed him forward again causing Gareth to tremble. His mind was still trapped on the pain radiating from his arm that he almost didn't register Chris reaching around him, groping him and tugging at his belt.

Gareth's face flushed as he quickly grabbed at Chris' hand as if to stop him, rotating enough so that his right shoulder hit the wall with all of Chris' weight still against his back. The smallest "stop" escaped his lips before he could even process the word. He made the mistake of glancing over towards Mary and Alex, quickly averting his stare to the wall then to the ground before closing his eyes. He couldn't do this. Not here. Couldn't put that guilt on them. There wasn't anything they could do.

"What's the matter? Don't want an audience?" Hot breath was on the back of his neck. "I thought the deal was as long as I didn't lay a finger on them, I could do whatever I wanted. Wasn't that it?"

He could feel Chris work more forcefully to get at his belt but Gareth tightened his grip on his hand, trying with all his might to pull him away.

Until Chris let go all together. He suddenly tangled his hand in his hair again before slamming Gareth's head into the wall. Grabbed Gareth by his shoulder and abruptly turned him around, hand pressed against his chest and pinning him back to the wall.

Gareth felt disoriented, unable to do much of anything until his line of sight came back into focus. About the same time Chris pulled his knife from his belt, Alex and Mary screaming.

Chris started working Gareth's shirt undone, pulling at the buttons. When Gareth tried to stop him, Chris only raised the knife to his throat. Didn't say a word. But if looks could kill, Gareth would have already been dead.

Chris lowered the blade once Gareth placed his arm back down at his side. Slapped his free hand over Gareth's mouth as he pushed his shirt back with the knife, exposing his right shoulder.

Grinned as he gently ran the cold blade over his skin.

Gareth's hand quickly shot up to grab Chris by his wrist again, panicked. He wasn't going to kill him, that much was evident. He would have done it by now otherwise. How far he would go was the question.

The tip of the blade rested lazily just under his collarbone.

"Of all your people here, you've won me over."

There was a little more pressure applied behind the knife.

"You've become my bitch. And I think it's only fair we make sure everyone knows that."

Gareth's scream was muffled from Chris' hand as the knife punctured his skin. Without even thinking, he tried pushing Chris back with both arms, desperate. Tried to grasp the knife. Anything to stop him. But Chris just fought it. Pressed the knife harder into his flesh as he drug the blade down, blood oozing.

He felt lightheaded at the thought of his blood pooling under the knife. Could see it from the corner of his eye. It was like all of his senses were heightened too, because he could smell it—almost _taste_ it. Heart hammering away in his chest.

It felt like hours before Chris took the blade back, along with his hand. Wiped the side of the knife across Gareth's cheek and bottom lip, smearing the blood.

Chris pet the top of his head while slightly ruffling his hair. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Gareth kept his back glued to the wall with his arms at his sides. His left arm was throbbing something fierce, but the pain in his cut up shoulder was escalating. He could feel the warm liquid saturating his shirt and trailing down his chest. He didn't even want to risk moving, fearful that it would just cause even more pain. He wasn't sure if that was possible.

Chris pulled his men off the railcar with him and they left shortly after. It was only then that Gareth summoned some strength to lift his arm and pull his shirt back enough to look at the damage done. It appeared to be a rough looking letter C carved into him. Deep. And he knew it was going to leave one hell of a scar, if and when it would ever heal.

Alex and Mary were standing in front of him, Alex holding the shirt they had previously used for his arm. They were at a loss. It was clearly written on their faces, not sure what they could do to help when they had nothing.

Alex wiped the blood off Gareth's face the best he could before glancing over at his shoulder. Gareth bit at the inside of his lip and vaguely nodded, giving his brother the okay to apply pressure to the wound. After all, it was the only thing they really could do at that point.

Try to lessen the bleeding.

* * *

There never seemed to be an opportunity. To fight back. To escape. It was just the same thing on repeat for days. Twenty-four days of nonstop torture. Gareth fought with what strength he had left to make sure anything Chris and his goons had to do, they did it to him. The pain and humiliation, the nightmares… they would forever be scarred into his memory and skin.

Like the newly acquired scars on his wrists and arms from being bound numerous times. Or Chris' knife work on his shoulder that was irritated and swollen with the deep cuts and unavailable treatment.

Having to eat what was given to them, or starve. Because they couldn't just keep ignoring it. And Chris being sure to always fill them in on who it was, just to make matters worse.

Being thrown over that steel table and taken advantage of until he blacked out from the pain.

Suffocated to the brink of passing out just to see how long he could hold his breath. Revisiting the trough full of water like it was nothing but pure entertainment, watching him practically drown as they held him under longer and longer, making bets.

The _laughs._

Nightmares keeping him from gaining any real sleep.

He couldn't always fight it though, eyes burning and head bobbing until he gave in.

Only this time he awoke due to physical pain startling him. Chris' booted foot colliding with his infected shoulder, eliciting a gasp out of him as he shot forward, awake.

"...alone. Please. Even if it's just for today."

Gareth caught half of what his mom was saying. But it was all he needed to know that she was trying to talk Chris out of it. She was trying to negotiate.

"You comin' in his place then? Or Alex?"

Alex scrambled to his feet in an instant. Without question or hesitation.

"No..." Gareth pushed himself to stand. Mary followed his lead, half making sure he didn't collapse, half putting herself between him and Chris.

Chris laughed. "I'd take all of ya with me. But seeing as Gareth still has it in him, and I'm a man of my word..."

One of Chris' men had tried to harass them without Chris' consent previously. He'd come in at least once every other day. Groped Mary, attacked Alex. Threatened Gareth that if he intervened, he'd break one of Alex's bones for every time he would even try, starting with his fingers. Stupidly enough, Gareth tried to stop him, which resulted in Alex having his right index finger dislocated. It left Gareth with no choice but to sit there and endure it, Alex's pained cry stuck in the back of his mind.

Those visits lasted about a week before Chris caught wind of it and just slaughtered the man without batting an eye.

"Gareth, stop. You don't have to keep doing this," Alex pleaded.

Chris exited the railcar. Stood outside leaning against the door, waiting. He had never done that previously. Never allowed Gareth to just willingly follow. He was always drug out by his arm or his hair.

Gareth had been so mesmerized by Chris' actions, lost in thought trying to figure out what it meant, that he didn't realize his mom had gotten closer to him. She carefully wrapped her arms around him in an embrace. And all he could do was blink.

He didn't know how to reciprocate the action anymore. Didn't see any point in it. He just hurt. And all he wanted was to sleep and be left alone.

He was just _broken_.

Mary held his face, stealing his attention. She looked stressed. Sad. "You don't have to do this for us."

Gareth gently brushed her away, shaking his head. He knew in that moment that this was it. This was the chance he had been waiting for. To gain Chris' trust. At least enough so that he didn't always have a pair of hands on him.

And just the thought had him feeling slightly invigorated. He'd get them out of this, or die trying.


	5. Chapter 7

Gareth followed Chris back through Terminus. Back to the same room he was always taken to, since the beginning. What was unusual was that Chris was by himself, the other men content with their own business elsewhere. And it was quiet.

Gareth stopped in the doorway when he saw a body on one of the tables. Stripped down, leg missing from the knee down. He tried not to look at his face. Didn't want to know who was being served up now.

But just the slightest glimpse told him all he needed to know. It was Tim Walters. Couple years younger than him.

He glanced over at Chris to see that the man was waving him over with a single digit, a "come here" motion, standing on the other side of the table. So, Gareth joined him.

"I want you to start working on the arm."

Gareth's face immediately paled. "...What?"

"You heard me." Chris pulled his knife from his sheath. He stepped behind Gareth, arms around his frame as he grabbed his right hand and forced the knife into his grip. "Start cutting into his skin. All the way until you hit bone."

Gareth stared down at the knife in his hand. The very one that cut into his own skin.

Chris covered Gareth's hand with his own and rested the blade against Tim's corpse's arm. Forced enough pressure to draw a hairline of blood, the slightest trail of red liquid coming to the surface and spilling over.

"If you want to live, you have to eat. Right?"

Gareth's hand was forced down harder, more blood spilling. But the feeling of the knife cutting into human flesh... It was nothing like those rotten corpses ambling around out there. It required a lot more effort on thick, fresh skin.

It was repulsive.

Gareth shook his head. He tried to take his hand back. Tried to back up. But Chris didn't let him. Instead, Chris applied a lot more pressure. Sawed the knife back and forth until it jerked to a stop, hitting bone.

"Where else are you going to find such easy access to real food in this world?" Chris let go of Gareth's hand and the pressure against his back let up as he stepped back. "You could join us. I think you have the poten—"

Time seemed to slow down. The only thing Gareth registered in that moment was that he had the knife. And he whipped around, slinging that blade back as hard and as fast as he could, his knuckles practically white from the grip he held onto it.

But Chris seemed to avoid the worst of it. The knife only slashed across his arm that he raised in defense, the slightest growl of pain bursting forth.

Gareth was panting for breath, breathing heavy as he stared, momentarily frozen. Chris' face burned red as he gripped his cut arm. Blood gushing at a steady rate. Nothing but death in his eyes, locked onto Gareth.

"You ungrateful piece of shit!"

Gareth found the feeling in his limbs again just a little too late. Chris grabbed a hold of him by his shirt before he could run. Threw him over the table, knocking it over with a clatter, Tim's body hitting the ground with him.

Gareth pulled himself together, rolled onto his stomach and reached for the knife, having lost it in the fall. His fingers brushed over the hilt just as Chris pulled him back by his ankle, leaving him clawing at the ground in hopes of catching some traction. He rolled onto his back once again and started kicking as viciously as possible. His body was screaming in pain, everything in him protesting the struggles. But it was this, or Chris would give him the most insufferable, slowest, bloodiest death possible.

Gareth nailed him in the face, smashing his nose and sending blood to come gushing forth once again. It allowed him enough time to crawl back to the knife and make a break for it, knowing there was no way he could fight Chris head on. He managed to round the doorway just as a bullet ricocheted off the frame, Chris screaming profanities.

If he played this smart, played it _safe_, Gareth had the advantage. This was his home. Not Chris'.

Gareth slunk into the shadows of one of the nearest rooms, thankful for his adrenaline. Thankful that it was night. He pressed his back against the wall, looking toward the door. Searching for a shadow to pass. Waiting for Chris to run by, fueled by rage, as Gareth tried to catch his breath as quickly and quietly as possible.

There was movement somewhere off to his left in the dark, alerting his attention. He tried to focus on it, slowly inching away from the door and toward the sound. Stopped when he heard movement from back the other way. Outside the door.

"...find him! I don't care what you have to do to catch him, but I want him alive. He's _mine_." Chris' voice carried passed the room Gareth was hiding in, letting Gareth know that he was in the clear for the time being.

With that knowledge, Gareth kept creeping into the darkness and towards the faint movement he had heard seconds ago. There was very minimal lighting coming in from the windows but Gareth could make out a couple figures the closer he got.

A muffled half-yell had him moving in faster.

Gareth quickly recognized one of the figures to be Albert, along with Martin and Kaylee. All gagged and tied to a support beam. After throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, Gareth set the knife down and pulled the gags from their mouths.

"Gareth? How the hell'd you get out, man?" Martin rubbed at his wrists as soon as Gareth had cut him free. Gareth chose to ignore his question though as he worked on freeing the other two.

"I need you guys to get the others. We're taking this place back. Tonight."

"But _how_?" Albert whined. "We don't have anything!"

"We kill one of them and use whatever he has to get to our weapon stash." Gareth cringed, inhaling sharply as a wave of pain washed over him. They'd have to do this fast. Whatever adrenaline he was running on wasn't likely to hang around for much longer.

Kaylee wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head and crying. Martin wasted no time in pulling her into his chest, emotionless, as she clung to him for comfort. He and Albert most likely knew what happened to her. Probably saw everything too, knowing the way Chris and his men worked.

"Hey," Gareth started. He could see Albert and Kaylee already wanting to give up. "If anyone can do this, it's you. And it's gonna have to be. We stop now, we're dead."

He turned his back on them and retreated for the door. He was doing this with or without them, and he sure as hell wasn't going to wait around for them to make up their minds.

"We're already dead," Martin mumbled, voice monotone.

* * *

With Martin's assistance, Gareth was able to silently kill the first man that crossed their path. A knife to the back while Martin snatched the gun from out of his hands, smothering him to drown out his cry of pain. Gareth had brought the knife back and kept stabbing until the man hit the ground, lifeless. Drove the blade through his head. Glanced up at Martin and nodded.

It was like it didn't faze him. Either of them, just killing a man like that. No second thought. Because Tim was an innocent man—he didn't deserve to be hacked up and served as some full course meal. But the man bleeding out on the floor?

It was justified.

Kaylee and Albert stuck with Martin to find a safe route to their weapon stash while Gareth pushed on. He had to get back to his mom and brother. If anything, he had to get them out of Terminus before Chris would go after them.

He went around the long way. Figured it made it easier for him to hide, harder to see him coming. Too obvious if he walked the path he had been taken down numerous times over the weeks. He'd climb the fence and circle back around if he had to, just to throw them off.

There was a bunch of yelling coming from the direction he was headed though. And it made him nervous.

Gareth picked up his pace, eyes locked onto the corner of the building. All he had to do was make his way around there and he'd be able to see whether Alex and Mary were still remotely safe or not.

Then there was a harsh grip encasing his right wrist. He tried to convince himself that it was Martin or Albert, but he knew that was a lie.

Gareth turned enough to see Chris looming over him before there was a new grip on the back of his neck. Chris ran him into the side of the empty cargo crate not too far off from where they were standing, slamming his right hand against the metal until Gareth released the knife and it clang to the ground at his feet.

"You think you're smart?" Chris managed to twist Gareth's arm up painfully behind him, still holding onto his wrist. Pushed against him so that his injured shoulder dug into the wall of the shipping container. He pulled and pushed until Gareth let out a small cry, wriggling uselessly. "Think you're some smartass with a 'plan'?"

"Fuck. _You_." Gareth ground out through his teeth.

"I've been trying to figure it out all this time. Why you. Why did I take up such an interest in you..." Chris adjusted his hand on the back of Gareth's neck. "Then it dawned on me: You remind me of myself."

"I am _nothing_ like you."

Chris seemed to ignore him as he continued on:

"Do whatever it takes to protect your baby brother and mommy. That's the mistake we both made—family only gets you killed. They bring you down. Get in the way." He hiked Gareth's arm up further, causing him to clench his teeth, taking deep breaths through his nose. "You'll realize soon enough… When they're dead, that weight will be lifted off your shoulders. You'll be _free_."

While Chris was distracted, Gareth tried to reach around with his left arm and grab the pistol Chris always kept tucked in the back of his pants. But as soon as he had pulled it free, the hand on the back of his neck left as Chris grabbed that wrist as well. Slammed it against the metal just the same as a shot fired off into the sky, Gareth's finger slipping on the trigger.

With Gareth's head turned to the left, he was staring directly at Chris' arm keeping his own pinned. Chris didn't try to make him drop the gun though—knew Gareth's left arm was weak enough without having to add insult to injury.

And maybe that was his first mistake.

Gareth managed to bite into Chris' arm as hard as his jaw would allow, drawing blood. It was the only line of defense Gareth had left, being trapped against a wall face first with both arms pinned. But it worked in his favor.

Chris released him shortly after, allowing Gareth enough time to get turned around and face him, pistol raised. He laughed as Gareth put some space between them. "What? I lock you up and feed you some meat. Does that make you feral now?"

"Shut up." Gareth kept the gun raised with his right hand. He reached the end of the shipping container, glancing at the door before trying to get it open, spitting blood off to the side. Chris took a step forward and Gareth shot at his feet, freezing him in his tracks.

Gareth got the door unlatched, swinging open on worn hinges. Took a few steps back and waved Chris over with the gun.

Chris scoffed. "You're kidding, right?"

"You do as I say, or I'll put a bullet in you. One way or another, you're going in." Gareth slightly looked him over. "Remove the sheath from your belt and set it on the ground as well."

Chris nodded, chuckling. He unfastened the sheath belonging to his knife and tossed it. "Alright. I'll play along." He raised his arms in the air in a half-assed manner, walking toward the opening.

Gareth stepped back enough to make sure he couldn't be grabbed. He could tell by the sly look on Chris' face that it only gave him more satisfaction—Chris could still easily overpower Gareth. But that wasn't the case.

"Further." Gareth grasped the gun with both hands in an attempt to steady his aim if he needed it as Chris entered the container.

"You don't see it now. But you will." Chris rattled on, "We're the same."

Gareth looked down at his shaky hands before him, clutching the pistol like his life depended on it. Targeted at Chris. And he took note of the blood. It was on his hands, and splattered onto his shirt. Running down his chin from biting into Chris' arm.

"You can let me sit in here to rot and die. But you'll never forget about me." Chris tapped his temple, grinning. "You never forget your first."

Gareth's finger tightened on the trigger. He dropped his left arm, holding the gun with just his right. His vision slightly blurred as tears welled up.

But he lowered the gun all together, a smile slowly creeping across his face. It felt so out of place among all the death and bloodshed—everything as a whole.

The look on Chris' face dropped as Gareth placed a hand on the door. A look he'd soon never forget.

"I could shoot you. _Kill_ you. But where would the fun in that be?" Gareth slammed the container door shut, locking it.


	6. Chapter 8

_As soon as he rounded the corner, Gareth could see Mary sitting at her usual table. Head in her hands, elbows rested on the surface in front of her. It was a bit later than he would have liked, the day drawing to a close with the sun burning red in the sky. But it beat waiting another day to make it back or traveling through the night._

_Mary looked relieved when she took notice of movement from the corner of her eye. She got back on her feet with a smile, pulling Gareth into a brief hug and kissing him on the cheek—something that still caused Gareth to partially roll his eyes._

_"You're late getting back… How'd it go?" Mary stepped back to look him over before glancing at Tim, Matt, and Chuck just behind him._

_"About as expected. Came across a group of those dead ones, had to make a slight detour," Chuck replied_

_"Didn't get as much as we were hoping to, but we did get another sign put up." Gareth shrugged his backpack off and set it at his feet. "It probably wouldn't hurt to have a few of us go out again tomorrow."_

_"Yeah, there was a decent subdivision just a little further north that we haven't really touched yet. But we didn't want to worry anyone if we took a couple extra days," Tim explained._

_Mary nodded. "I appreciate the thought. Thank you for coming back."_

_The guys nodded in return before taking off to inventory their supplies, leaving Gareth with his mom. He noticed she was still looking him over, worried that she missed something._

_"I'm fine, mom," Gareth clarified. "Like Chuck said, we just had to make a slight detour. Sorry we're a little late getting back."_

_Mary smiled. "You know I always worry when you or your brother go out. I really wish you didn't."_

_"We gotta pull our weight too. Wouldn't be fair otherwise." Gareth grabbed his backpack but stopped when he saw that his mom was looking past him. He turned on his heels to see that it was a group of men, three of them, having apparently just entered Terminus._

_"Hello." Mary stepped forth with a bit of caution._

_"Hello," the man seeming to lead the pack spoke up. He was glancing around at the structures before returning his gaze forward. "This must be the sanctuary that's being advertised." The group came to a stop just a few feet in front of Mary and Gareth._

_Gareth felt a little on edge, his hand slightly twitching for the pistol on his hip. They'd never had a group show up this close to dusk, and certainly never after having just returned from a supply run. He couldn't help but think that maybe these men overhead them, followed them back here. But he wasn't about to make any rash decisions._

_"Nice place you got here."_

_One of the men moved to cover his arm, alerting both Gareth and Mary's attention. There was a decent gash in his arm. Injured. And Gareth felt more at ease, realizing these men were most likely just looking for help._

_Mary offered to help the injured man, leading him off to grab some medical supplies. She gave Gareth a look in passing, but it didn't say much._

_"Well… Welcome to Terminus." Gareth gestured at his surroundings. "My mom will get your guy patched up. And if you're looking to stay, you're more than welcome. Or if you're just passing through. We've got some supplies, but not much. It's a work in progress."_

_The man in front nodded as he scratched his chin. "I think we might stay for a bit. We've been on the road a while now. Be nice to take a break." He was staring over at one of the tables. The one Gareth noticed was occupied by Kaylee and Albert._

_"Name's Gareth." He extended his hand. It was like an internal war trying to decide how to react to people who came into Terminus, his mom and brother having more faith in humanity than himself. But they put those signs up for a reason. They wanted to help people. And this was how they did it. He couldn't just push them away._

_Besides, it was only three men. What was the worst they could do?_

_The man cracked a smile. Shook his hand with an overly firm grip. "Chris."_

/

"It can wait."

Sunlight was seeping through the windows and shining bright as ever as if to celebrate their victory. Taking back Terminus had proved to be a difficult feat, but _they made it_. After regrouping, it was evident that the death toll was high. Handfuls of people missing: men _and_ women. But it was over now.

"Gareth—" Alex tried to reach out to him again, persistent. Standing just inside the room of which Gareth currently resided.

Gareth busied himself with wrapping his arm up. Tending to his wounds, now that they had the equipment for it. He still had dried blood caked on him. On his hands, his clothes, his face. Under his fingernails. It was like some of it was stained into his skin. He had tried washing it off his arms but it remained there, faded.

He flicked his eyes over in his brother's direction. "No, it can't."

His memory was pretty hazy after the incident with Chris, locking him up. He could vaguely recall shooting one of Chris' men. And Martin, Kaylee, and Albert coming through, guns at the ready. They shot down every last man with a few other survivors at their side: Cynthia, Chuck, Theresa, Greg, Mike...

Gareth remembered being the one to open the railcar where Mary and Alex were held. Remembered the terrified look on their faces that slowly turned to relief.

After that, it was all a blur.

"We'll get everything under control. We all just need time to rest. _You _need time to rest. Some time to recover, after..."

"We don't _have_ time. It needs to be now." Gareth raised his voice, turning his entire body so that he was actually facing him. Alex slightly hung his head in response, allowing Gareth to make the assumption that he was finished, turning his back to him. He worked on removing his shirt so that he could access his wounded shoulder.

"You just woke up. You were unconscious for _hours_." Turned out Alex wasn't finished. "They're _dead_, Gareth!"

Gareth dropped his arms down at his sides. Shut his eyes momentarily while clenching his fists. Shaking. It took a lot for him to remain calm as he faced Alex again. He'd never seen such a look of determination on his brother's face. Certainly not when they were being held captive.

"What do you want from me, Alex? Huh? All the _shit_ that we went through. What _I_—" Gareth's voice hitched as he shivered. He shut his eyes again and willed himself to take a couple deep breaths, suddenly feeling a sense of vertigo.

"Just talk to me." Alex lowered his voice, his face going soft. He slightly cradled his bad hand—with the previously dislocated finger—like he was searching for some empathy. Like he was trying to push empathy onto Gareth.

Like _he_ felt guilty.

"I don't want to talk. I'm fine."

"You're not—"

"I said I'm fine!" Gareth turned away from him, hands back to fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. "Just... Just leave me alone."

/

He had to keep busy. That was all there was to it.

Gareth had everyone gathered for a meeting. It was the first time everyone really came together after the events, most still distraught over everything. Broken. But they had to rebuild. They had to honor those who they lost: give them a memorial, make things right by them, and move on. And they would.

Everyone was to refer to each other by only their first name. Not to let on to any relationship that might stand. They would set up a system, always having a minimum of two people on watch: one to keep an eye on the front, and one to keep an eye on the back. They would still go on supply runs, but not nearly as many. Everyone would have an assigned task on a daily basis. They'd keep a better, more accurate inventory of everything that came into Terminus.

He found himself calling the shots now. And everyone was looking to him for the answers.

Things would be different.

After going over everything in brief detail, Gareth retreated. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn't—he was exhausted. His entire body ached. He felt sick to his stomach. And truth be told, he didn't want any kind of interaction with anyone. He just wanted to be left alone.

But when he was alone, it only allowed him to be trapped inside his own head. In the nightmares.

So, he tried to busy himself with making a sort of memorial. He got as far as moving everything around to make the center of the room empty with the exception of a few stands holding some candles before he collapsed against a wall.

He had his left arm sort of pulled into his lap as he rested the back of his head against the wall, eyes shut, and focused on his breathing. His mind started to drift. First, it was all current. Wondering what was to come of Terminus now that they had it back. How well everyone would be able to pick up the pieces. Then, it was Chris. And what he was supposed to do with him trapped in that shipping container.

There was a pressure on his shoulder. On the wound where Chris had carved his knife into him—the very knife Gareth now carried on his belt. And it took him back there. When Chris would let his shoulder mend a little bit before he'd inflict more pain, reopening it so that it couldn't ever fully heal. Throwing him onto the table and having his men hold him down as he did it.

Gareth jolted awake to find two figures bent down at his level in front of him. His heart was racing as he pushed himself further against the wall at his back, staring. It took him a moment to realize it was Alex and Mary.

"It's okay. It's just us." Mary tried to hide her frown. "Alex found you in here and he came and got me."

Gareth glanced down at his shoulder. He must have reopened the wound playing housekeeper because blood had soaked through his shirt, which was now pulled back, exposing the soiled bandage.

Mary reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, causing him to initially flinch. "You're burning up."

"It's fine… I was gonna clean it."

"It's infected," Alex spoke up. "And it could probably use stitches."

"Then I'll get around to that too…" Gareth used the wall for support to stand up, Mary and Alex following.

"Let me go grab some stuff and I'll—"

"It's fine," Gareth repeated a little more firmly, cutting his mom off. He wasn't sure how keen he was on the idea of either of them tending to his shoulder. It was bad enough they had to see it as it was being dealt, let alone the aftermath. And even though they were his mother and brother, he wasn't sure he could get past their touch. Hands touching him. Especially on that wound. "I'll do it."

Gareth left the room without another word. Without meeting their eyes. He found himself walking aimlessly just to get away. And when he came to a stop, he almost hadn't realized just where his own feet had taken him.

The table was still overturned. Blood on the floor. Tim's body had been removed—apparently the others had already searched the grounds for any remaining survivors, taking care of the deceased they came across.

He rounded another of the steel tables, one that was upright, just as he heard a shuffle of feet. Glanced up to see Alex standing in the doorway. Following him around like a puppy.

"We just want to help, Gareth." Alex paused as he briefly looked around at the room. His eyes lingered on the blood before returning to him. Continued:

"Mom's scared. _I'm _scared." His voice trailed off for a moment. Like he was searching for some composure. "We thought… That first night when they took you away… We thought you were dead. And last night—you just took off without a word. We found you on the ground. Unconscious. And you were covered in blood and…"

Gareth stared at his brother as if in disbelief. Maybe his fever was making him agitated. It just felt like something snapped inside him, knowing he had been so short with Alex earlier. Yelled at him even. And now, he didn't even want them around him. He couldn't explain it. Didn't understand it.

Gareth opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself shortly after. Decided against it. He found himself staring down at the table before him, vaguely making out a blurry reflection before slowly placing the palm of his hand down against the cool steel. It seemed odd how such a simple fixture could hold so much weight. Yet in that moment, it felt nice on his skin.

He turned his attention back to Alex. "When I said things are gonna change around here, I meant it."

Alex nodded. "They need to. It won't be like it was before."

"No…" Gareth took a deep breath and exhaled, allowing himself a pause. "It won't."


	7. Chapter 9

"_We got a group heading for the front gate. Men and women_."

Static cut in over the walkie-talkie on Gareth's belt. He let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders dropping as he shut the inventory book. Set it, along with the pen, on the table in front of him. Cynthia on the opposite side of the table, forcing a small smile.

"Duty calls," she remarked.

Gareth gave a small "yeah" before grabbing the talkie. Held the button in to speak. "_Specifics_, Albert. How many? Heavily armed?"

"_Uh... About eight. They've got guns. Pretty heavy_."

Gareth cast Cynthia a look of annoyance. "You'd think after four months, he'd have it figured out by now." He ran a thumb over his lip in thought before raising the talkie again. "Mary..."

"_I'm on it_." Her voice came in as soon as Gareth released the button.

"Someone who knows what they're doing." Gareth waved the walkie-talkie around for emphasis while looking back at Cynthia. "Go ahead and gather the others. We're gonna run this just like any other time, don't let the number discourage you."

Cynthia nodded as they parted ways. They were used to a couple people here and there, groups no larger than four usually. Five or six at most. But this didn't change anything. Gareth wasn't about to let two extra people screw things up. And they weren't ever going to be ambushed again like they had been with Chris and his men. They kept an eye out for that.

Gareth made his way outside to see everyone getting ready and into place. Exchanging their handguns for something bigger and heading for the rooftops. Helping Mary prepare the grill. Sitting around at the tables to make the place just seem... livable. Inviting.

Whoever these newcomers were, they only had one of two options. And it was up to them to make that decision. How they react upon arriving. Whether they are willing to stay.

"Hey," Martin stopped Gareth. "You want us to go ahead and set up the flares? With this being a bigger group and all, I just assumed we're probably gonna make some noise."

"We'll still try to conserve the ammo." Gareth rested his hands on his hips and nodded. "But it wouldn't hurt."

Safety was usually a number one priority for most. But with Gareth, sometimes the only thing that mattered was just getting the job done in the cleanest manner possible—there wasn't room for emotions to get in the way. Though with Martin and a handful of the others heading out to set up the flares now, it provided everyone safety. It would allow them to get away before anything drastic could happen, before the dead ones could trap them. And it would keep the dead ones from reaching Terminus.

Gareth continued walking as Alex popped out of one of the nearby rooms, joining his side. He briefly glanced over at him but remained silent.

"What if... What if things don't go according to plan?" Alex started.

"That's what our backup plan's for," Gareth retorted.

"I mean, what if they draw on us? If there's eight of them, that's more than we've ever had all at once. I just want to be prepared."

"They won't. But in the unlikely event that that happens, we're covered. Theresa's on the roof. She's a good shot. And we have the advantage with our spotters. Everything is under control."

Gareth veered off and headed for the rooftops himself, seeing nothing left to the conversation. He reached the rooftop where Albert was perched just in time to see the new group approaching the grill, Mary welcoming them.

"They look like a strong group." Albert was watching them through the scope of his rifle. His posture suggested he was nervous. Fingers fidgeting for a proper grip on the gun. Feet slightly shuffling.

"Only the strong ones last this long." Gareth briefly clasped the younger man's shoulder. "Nothing we can't handle. Just gotta go about it in the right way."

Albert lowered the rifle and looked back at Gareth. He vaguely nodded before turning his attention back to the newcomers below them on ground level.

Albert reminded him a lot of Alex. Too innocent. Naive.

Gareth watched the group exchange hellos for another moment longer before he decided to walk down and join them. Came up behind them like a mouse; the new comers completely clueless of his existence.

He could just make out the darker skinned female asking what it was as Mary handed her a plate.

"It's deer." Gareth came to a stop, lacing his fingers together in front of him. As expected, the group turned on their heels and were grabbing for their weapons. Startled by his presence.

Gareth raised his right hand, palm forward. Kept it there as a warning. If he closed his hand into a fist... Well, that was back-up. He caught a glimpse of Alex and Mary through them, hands resting on their holsters with the newcomers' backs to them. Gareth subtly turned his head to the side; "no".

He smiled. "I come in peace. Name's Gareth." He dropped his hand back down at his side. Scanned over them, seeing the brute ginger as the only true threat. The man obviously had physical strength in his corner. Looked ex military. "Heard some new voices. Thought I'd come say hello."

"Abraham here was just telling us that they're heading to D.C." Mary returned her attention to the grill.

Gareth nodded. "That right?"

"We've got an important mission. Not stopping till we get there." Ginger was the first to speak up, hands resting on his belt, giving Gareth the assumption that he was Abraham. For some reason, the name seemed to suit him.

"We're looking for the others from our group. We got separated." The one wearing a poncho started looking around, analyzing faces. "Has anyone come through here?"

"It's been a while since we've seen any new faces. Can't say I can help you there." Gareth gestured to his surroundings. "You're more than welcome to stay a while though. Even if it's just a night. See if your people find their way here."

The Asian nodded, running a hand through his hair. "That'd... be great, actually. Thanks."

"It's the least we can do. It sucks being stuck out there without shelter."

The brunette dropped her backpack and approached Gareth, sticking her hand out in front of her. Gareth slightly raised an eyebrow but shook her hand anyway. "I'm Tara. And I gotta tell ya, this place looks awesome. So... kudos for letting us stay." She took her hand back and made a fist, leaving it hanging in the air.

"I, uh..." Gareth tilted his head to the side, confused. Had it really been that long since he'd had real communication with someone? Communication that wasn't all business and analytical?

He glimpsed over at her group and half of them were smiling—Poncho, Asian, Hoops. That caused a long enough distraction that he was actually startled when he felt Tara grab his wrist. He just kind of stared as she closed his hand and Tara bumped his fist, releasing him. Grinning.

"That's Tara for ya." The Asian smiled. "I'm Glenn. My wife, Maggie. Sasha, Bob, Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita." He pointed out each member of his group as he spoke.

Gareth nodded. "Nice to meet all of you." He glanced passed them and met Alex's stare before continuing, "Well... like I said, it's the least we can do. And for what it's worth, I hope your people show up. If you just follow me, I'll show you around and we'll get ya settled in."

He usually left Alex to be the one to show their newcomers around. But this group was different. And the plan wasn't changing.

Maybe he was just being arrogant.

The questions started to arise when they began passing through the bullet riddled alleys, abandoned Junkers, and crates.

Bob broke the silence. "How long's this place been here?"

"How long have _we_been here?" Gareth reworded the question. "Since about the start. Few months after everything fell. Followed the tracks. Seemed like a good idea at the time—following a path."

"And the signs? You guys make all those?" Rosita inquired.

"We wanted to help people." Gareth caught himself speaking in past tense. He quickly corrected himself, "Still do. We've had some... encounters with the wrong people."

Abraham huffed. "That why this place has been shot to hell?"

Gareth focused on what was ahead of him. He was almost there. It'd have to be close enough.

He stopped and turned on his heels. Faced them. It was already written across their features. They weren't stupid. That's why he didn't bother pulling his pistol. Knew he'd most likely be shot in the back before he could even draw it, having not confiscated their weapons or gear.

Abraham was the first to raise his gun, Glenn and Sasha quickly following suit. But Gareth could hear the _clicks_ of all the guns off to his side loading just as they did. He didn't have to look over to know his people had his back, standing in the brush covering the fence. He could read it on the faces in front of him—their eyes bouncing to the fence and back to him.

Gareth forced a small smile as he raised his hands in the air and gave a partial shrug. "You left us with no choice. If you had decided to stay and join us, things could have worked out. You seem like a nice group."

And for the first time in a _long_ time, Gareth's words truly felt sincere. He almost liked these people. They were smart, he could tell. _Strong_. They would have really benefited them. But the rules didn't change. They couldn't. Because if they did, it'd only create a slippery slope: allow one group to go free and live to fight another day. Until the wrong people come. All it would take is one small mistake.

"I'm gonna have to ask that you place all of your belongings on the ground in front of you."

Gareth watched in awe as Abraham glowered. The man scanned the fence line, and then noticed the others perched on the rooftops. All wielding pretty heavy artillery. All aimed at them. And he was the first to put down his weapon. Reluctant, but he did. And it only caused a chain reaction, the others setting their guns at their feet and dropping their backpacks.

The next 48 hours weren't as promising though.

* * *

_It had been a few days since they'd taken Terminus back. Gave everyone some time to sort of recover. More importantly, it allowed Gareth to collect his thoughts. Regain some composure after everything he'd been through. He just bottled it up and pushed it to the back of his mind. A place he refused to revisit or dwell on._

_He looked around at everyone before him. Still battered and bruised, but in the process of healing. Mary and Alex at the front._

_"...It's too risky to go out and take the signs down. So, we'll use them to our advantage," Gareth continued his speech. The initial days of his leadership in Terminus, taking over the reins from Mary. "New people come in, we do our best to make them feel welcome. Feed them. Try to get them to stay."_

_Knowing that they had all been fed remains of their own people, forced to eat their flesh or starve, it brought on the realization that maybe Chris had a point. It was too easy. The easiest access to a food source. And it was decided that they would continue on that path. There wasn't much left out there as the months rolled by, going on two years since the world ended. It was something that would keep them alive._

_"If they decide not to stay, they can't live. Because they could come back for what we have. And we're not about to repeat history. We'll learn from it. We'll grow from our experiences. Never trust. Never again. We first, always. That's how we survive."_


	8. Chapter 10

It's okay.

That sentence—those _two_ words—formed the greatest lie of them all. If someone did something unfavorable, it could be swept under the rug. Brushed off. It could provide comfort. It hid the truth, keeping it from ever getting out.

It was the biggest lie he had ever told his brother. The same lie he had told him and their mother all those months ago.

This wasn't the same though. Gareth knew there was only one way it could end, Rick holding Alex at gunpoint. He knew the odds of Alex making it out alive were very slim. Yet the words still fell from his lips, indifferent: _it's okay_.

Things were under control until Rick showed up. Came in through the back. Apparently no one saw him. At least, not until it was already too late. Gareth could tell by looking at him that he was the man in charge. The way he held himself. It was like he was trying to challenge those who detested him.

_Cocky_ was one way of putting it.

When that first shot rang out, it just set things into motion. It didn't really register that that was Alex who had been shot in the head, body dropping to the ground. His blood splattering, reaching Gareth.

It could have been anyone.

But when it came down to it, the plan still didn't change. They were able to herd them into the same railcar as the last guests. Figured they could all be reunited one last time before being gutted, seeing as it was only fair.

Gareth jotted down everyone's shot counts in passing before he reached the slaughter room, obtaining Nate's and Aaron's as they took care of business. He glanced up just in time to see Nate raising the bat behind Glenn's head, the Asian already flinching.

All he did was raise his hand and Nate dropped his arms back down, the two of them stepping back.

"I just want to explain something." Gareth set his pen in the crevice of the inventory book, balancing the open pages on his left hand as he gestured to the four men bleeding out in the trough.

"These guys? They didn't have any potential. We don't have the supplies to waste on people who can't contribute." He paused long enough to sort of roll his jaw. "Injured, don't know their way around a gun, couldn't get behind the idea of what we have here, and so forth. Dead weight."

Gareth approached Rick, the man's eyes locked on him since he entered the room. He forced a small smirk as he bent down to his level, set the book down beside him. "You, on the other hand..." He waggled a finger at Rick, licking his lips. His smirk turned into a full blown grin. "You could have. Now, I can't necessarily speak for the rest of your group, or these guys beside you. But... you had it."

He reached forward and pulled the gag from Rick's mouth, wiping his saliva on his coat. Though apparently, Rick didn't have anything to say. Just kept up with the same damn steely glare.

"Nothing, huh? Not gonna try and convince me to stop these guys?" Gareth nodded his head towards Aaron and Nate, briefly glancing at them over Rick's shoulder.

"Don't need to." Rick finally spoke up. He slightly wobbled on his knees, re-positioning himself, the concrete most likely a little hard on his joints. "We're not going anywhere."

"Well, you're not wrong." Gareth smiled. "But assuming you have that bag of yours in mind... I wouldn't exactly count on it to get you out of here, seeing as it's quite a ways away."

That seemed to shut him up. Though the glare still remained in full force.

"Tried to hide it in case things went bad. I get it. Smart." Gareth glanced over at Bob, the man's eyes also trained on him. Full of fear. "What was in it? I'm curious." He turned his attention back to Rick.

Not getting the kind of response Gareth was looking for, he pulled his knife and reached across the trough in one swell swoop, hand grasping the back of Bob's neck with the knife mere inches from his left eye.

"There's guns in it. AK-47, .44 magnum, automatic weapons, night scope... There's a compound bow. And... a machete with a red handle." Rick paused, tilting his head to the side in the slightest. "That's what I'm gonna use to kill you."

Gareth allowed the smile on his own face to slowly creep into a grin before forcing a small laugh. The threat was clearly there. Rick wouldn't hesitate if given the chance. But that was just it. He didn't _have_ a chance.

And he broke so _easily_at the threat towards one of his group.

That's why he was in this predicament in the first place.

Gareth placed the gag back in Rick's mouth before patting him on the shoulders and thanking him, returning to his feet. He made it a few steps before he froze, two shots firing off in the distance.

Initially, he was reminded of Chris. When his people that were hiding came out from the shadows, flanked them. Gunned anyone down who tried to run, yelling for everyone to stay where they were.

Another shot snapped him out of it. He grabbed the walkie-talkie off his belt. "Hey, Chuck?"

He only received static in response. His mind raced. There was no way anyone got out of the cars—Chris or Rick's group. They couldn't have. All the same, everyone knew better than to fire a gun unless they were following protocol.

Where did that leave him then?

Gareth glanced over at Rick still knelt before the trough just as an explosion erupted, the entire ground shaking violently beneath his feet. He lost his balance, stumbled, and caught himself. Heart thudding away in his chest.

_What the hell?..._

Gareth raised a hand as if to calm everyone down. "You stay here—"

"They're not going anywhere!"

"Stay here until I know what's going on!" Gareth raised his voice. He caught one last glimpse over at them, Glenn being the only one still on his knees while everyone else had toppled over. Then he took off.

As soon as he emerged through the door that led outside, he could see it. A fire had begun to engulf the front of Terminus, the flames rising high into the air. The growls and moans of the dead growing louder as he started down the alley. People screaming—_his_ people.

Gareth tried the talkie again before clipping it back onto his belt and exchanging it for his pistol, still receiving nothing but white noise. Gunfire sounded from just around the corner and Gareth slightly picked up his pace. He raised his weapon as he swung around the side of the corner only to find Kaylee gunning the dead ones down.

She barely noticed him as her focus had been drawn to reloading her rifle, frustrated. Gareth slightly froze again once he looked passed her and saw how many of those things got through the fences. It was a herd. The one thing they tried their best to avoid, and now it was upon them.

Kaylee dropped her empty clip and turned to face him. "Gareth, there's too many. I—I don't know what happened... One of the tanks exploded out front and..."

Gareth placed his palm in the air as she fell quiet at the motion. "Try to help anyone you can and get the hell out of here. We'll regroup up the tracks about a half mile."

Kaylee nodded, quickly wiping at her face before rushing off. Gareth watched as she disappeared around a different corner, slightly headed towards all the chaos. Much like himself.

He tried the walkie-talkie one last time, his words directed to no one in particular: "If you can hear this, get out! We'll regroup and come back!" It felt pointless but he had to try. Everything was falling apart at such a fast rate, out of his control. They could have never been prepared for something like this.

Gareth pushed on. Followed in the same direction Kaylee had taken. A few of the dead had already started to swarm further into Terminus, some popping out of unsuspecting places. He had been taken by surprise when one ambled around the corner with its partner, hard to hear their shuffling feet over the raging fire closing in, the screams and gunfire. He shot the first one in the head, throwing its lifeless body to the side before barely getting a hold of the second by its reaching arms. He was able to push it towards the brick wall. Swiftly slammed the butt of the pistol into its head with a spatter, further surprised at how decomposed it was.

Gareth wiped his sleeve across his face and spit to the side in disgust, the black ooze having ricocheted. He supposed it'd been a while since he had to personally deal with the dead.

"Y_ou there, Gareth?_" Aaron's voice cut in on the talkie.

He could hear the faint growls growing closer at that moment. Turned to see how many and how far. All he could do was curse under his breath, wishing he hadn't fired his gun. There were too many to count. And they just seemed to keep multiplying, coming from every direction and heading in no single direct path.

Mary's voice cut in next: "_I think I just saw the person responsible for this. They look like one of them—the dead ones. I'm following them the best I can right now._"

Gareth kept close watch as he started to back away from the bigger of the herds facing him. Fumbled for the talkie. "What's your location, Mary?"

"_Heading for the Church_."

That was all Gareth needed to know before he started maneuvering through the best he could. If she was heading for the Church, he could meet up with her there. They could put an end to this so-called intruder that decided to blow everything up.

Of course, it took longer than anticipated. After sneaking by larger groups and putting down a few here and there, taking detours all the while, Gareth was able to reach the alley that led to the Church. The door was in sight, a handful of dead ones pushing their way through it. He watched out of curiosity. That door was always closed. Why was it opened?

That's when he saw it. Saw _her_. The person responsible for all this. Dressed like she was one of the dead, blending in.

He ignored whatever he was feeling in his gut and took aim. Before he could pull the trigger though, he was attacked. More of the dead flooding through the area. One grabbing his arm as he quickly shook it off, having almost lost his balance. He quickly grabbed the knife from his belt and drove it through its head. After two more, he was hardly able to pull the blade back, the handle slick with the coagulated goop.

When he looked back, the woman was nowhere in sight.

"_They're get...away...for...fence..._"

Gareth was hardly able to decipher the static over the talkie. Unable to tell exactly who it was that was informing him.

Seeing no other choice, the woman having taken off and Mary nor any other survivors in immediate sight, he turned on his heels and doubled back towards railcar A.


	9. Chapter 11

Gareth had made his way up to the rooftop just in time to see all of Rick's group, including Rick, hopping the fence. He immediately took aim with his pistol, finger twitching for the trigger. The moment he had a clear shot lined up, it was like Rick could sense his presence. The man turned around at that very instance and caught sight of him perched on the roof.

He barely had time to register Rick raising the automatic rifle, a barrage of bullets sweeping across the span of the rooftop where he resided. Gareth ducked as best he could and ran for cover, each ping of a bullet making impact inches from him, each bullet zipping by giving him an odd sense. A rush of adrenaline.

He cautiously peeked around the ventilation duct he was able to stoop behind to see Rick jumping the fence. Out of sight the minute his feet touched the ground on the other side. No way Gareth could even try to get a shot.

The only thing left was to get out himself. Try to find the others. Anyone who could have made it out. Being up on that rooftop only made the realization of that come to light. It wasn't going to be an easy task. Not with the fire and the dead devouring the place.

Clouds of black smoke rolled through with the wind's assistance, the slightest gulp of air burning his throat and causing him to choke. Gareth climbed his way back down to ground level before shedding his jacket and using it to shield his face. Giving him something to sort of filter the air so he could breathe.

How did everything become so bad so fast?

The heat of the flames made themselves known as Gareth had to make a detour back into more of the heart of Terminus, the dead swarming the place. Some even on fire as they stumbled along mindlessly. Since he was headed that way though, he figured he might as well make a pit stop. Grab some gear before hightailing it out.

He was just about to grab the handle when the door flew open, startling him.

"Here." Albert burst through the door with his arms full. Handed off a leather jacket, backpack, and rifle to Gareth as he slung his own backpack over his shoulders.

He had to give the kid some credit. He definitely underestimated him.

"C'mon, let's go!" Albert was practically bouncing with determination as he buried his nose and mouth into the crook of his elbow and took off.

Gareth quickly threw the jacket into the backpack and slung it onto his back, gripping the rifle with one hand and continuing to use the old jacket as a sort of mask. Took off after Albert.

They zigzagged through the maze of rubble and dead, using their knives and only resorting to their guns when absolutely necessary. The last thing they needed was to draw attention to themselves.

The shipping container caught Gareth's attention in passing. The one Gareth had locked Chris in. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring. It was open. And Chris was gone.

"Gareth! We gotta go!"

There was a tug on his sleeve. Albert pulling him along.

His head ached and his eyes burned. His _chest_ burned. He couldn't stop searching all the faces and bodies around them. Recognized some, but they weren't who he was looking for.

And for the most part, Gareth found himself trapped in a sort of haze. There was gunfire. Others. They had made it to the tracks. Had Albert not grabbed him when he did, he wasn't even sure he'd still be alive.

"Glad to see you guys in one piece."

Theresa's voice.

"Yeah..." Albert panted and wheezed. "Is this everybody?"

Gareth snapped out of it long enough to look up. Theresa, Mike, Greg, Charlie. Albert and himself. That was it. He could see it in their faces without anyone saying another word.

"We've tried to wait as long as we could. There's too many bodies..."

"Nobody's come back after going out to set up the charges either. Least, none that we've seen."

"Hey... Is he okay?"

"He just lost his family. What do you think?"

Gareth was rubbing at his eyes, the smoke and fire having irritated them. He hadn't realized they were talking about him until he looked back. Squinted.

"...Were you bit?" Gareth stared at Charlie, eyes moving from the man's shoulder and back to his face. Blood having caught his attention.

"I—" Charlie stopped. Averted his own attention to the ground before meeting everyone's eyes. "I was gonna say something once we got away from here. In case someone needed—"

Gareth grabbed his pistol and pulled the trigger before anyone could even react. Before Charlie could finish his sentence.

Headshot.

Everyone jumped back in shock. Greg stared, but no one said a word.

Gareth started walking towards the woods in the general direction Rick had taken off in. Switched his pistol for his rifle. The nearest dead having noticed his presence as he marched forward, turned to face him and was met with the butt of the rifle through its head.

And everyone followed.

* * *

Somehow they managed to come across Martin in the woods. Or rather, Martin came across them. Confused. Had to be filled in on what happened to Terminus. He looked like shit, eye swollen from taking a few hits. But he was alive. That was the one thing that didn't make any sense to Gareth.

"You said his name was Tyreese? And the baby? Judith?" Gareth stared into the small embers of the campfire. They weren't far from where Rick and his group were. Found the little white church and rounded back to what used to be an elementary school.

"Yeah. There was some gray haired woman too. Didn't catch her name though," Martin explained.

Gareth nodded to himself. They were all connected. All a part of Rick's group. But how could they be such polar opposites, one letting Martin live while the other destroyed Terminus?

He glanced down at the worn, blood stained jacket in his hands. For the most part, he had just spaced out, holding onto the article of clothing and staring into the flames. Alex's blood. It was Alex's blood stained into the fabric. He had been oblivious to Alex's body on the butchering table. Didn't even register it. Completely ignored it, and the fact that he was dead in general.

Ignored the fact that he might have been able to save Mary, though there was no telling. But he was _that_ close to reaching her, dead or alive. And he turned away. For what?

He ignored the fact that when he was searching those faces back in Terminus, all the dead pacing around... He was looking for _them_.

Gareth tossed the jacket into the fire. Hardly anyone said a word since they got out. It was as if they were all still looking up to him. Waiting for answers to questions that had never been asked. Answers that he didn't have. Staring. Even though he was younger than them. Even though Mike had taken the initiative to mark the trees so they could find their way back. It was like they still counted on him to pull them through.

The only thing Gareth knew was that he wasn't going to let Rick get away with it. There wasn't anything left, so there certainly wasn't anything to lose.


	10. Chapter 12

His heart was pounding in his chest. It was almost unbearable, the sort of trepidation.

Confrontation in a post apocalyptic world was an easy feat when having the upper hand. Gareth was used to it; luring people into Terminus, trying to talk to them. And if things didn't work out, he had that power over them. He had control of the situation.

Busting through those doors and stepping foot into that church? He liked to think he still had control, even with their numbers dwindled down to six. But only because he had watched Rick leave with a good majority of his own group, along with a lot of firepower.

Perhaps returning Bob with one less leg didn't settle well with them after all.

Gareth ran down the list of everyone who remained somewhere in that church. Called them all out. It was obvious they were hiding in one of the two rooms in the back, having no other place to run to. But as he did so, an unsettling feeling came over him. He was angry. He wanted revenge. And he had nothing else to lose. Not after his mom and brother. Not after Terminus and the others.

And the longer it drew out, the more time Gareth had to think about the situation as a whole. He couldn't kill a woman. Certainly not a kid. Having nothing left to lose was one thing. But going after Rick's group was plain stupidity. He just couldn't leave it alone though.

"Are we done here?"

Gareth glanced over at Martin as the man lowered his gun. Looked back at the door Greg and Albert were standing at. Both waiting for Gareth's okay. There was a small part of him that didn't know what he was doing. All because _nothing happened_. He expected them to forfeit. To come out with their hands up, weaponless. But no one moved a muscle or made a sound, other than Judith's short-lived cry.

Greg's body dropped. Albert's body dropped. Blood sprayed on the wall. There were two more _thumps_ of bodies hitting the floor before Gareth could force himself to move, in shock. He gripped his assault rifle and turned to face who he could only assume was Rick. Ready to fire back. Only it was pitch black, the doors still hanging open from when they made their entrance.

A sharp pain tore through his right shoulder. The impact of the bullet knocked him off balance, slightly stumbling back, startled. He dropped his gun in the process and clutched at the wound out of instinct. His head spun as he could feel the warm liquid oozing beneath his fingers.

"Put your guns on the floor and kneel."

Chris. Chris was... No. _Rick_. It was all Rick. His voice. His face that emerged from the shadows, silenced pistol raised. Sasha, Glenn, Abraham, Maggie, Daryl, Tara. They were all right there with him.

"Do what he says, Martin. There's no choice here," Gareth choked out the words. Got down on his knees, left hand still firmly gripping his injured shoulder. Where the bullet must have entered, it wasn't far from where Chris had... Where Chris had attacked him. He could tell. He could just _feel_ it. Like it was reopened.

He felt nauseated.

"Yeah there is," Martin replied.

Gareth could see Martin still on his feet from the corner of his eye. Couldn't help but watch as he set the gun down and raised his hands, palms facing forward as Sasha advanced on him. He smiled at her. Watched as she pulled her knife and tossed her gun aside.

Martin didn't even fight it. Whether he thought she was bluffing or he just didn't care, Sasha drove the blade through his throat. Pulled it back and drove it forward two more times before she was finished.

Gareth shut his eyes and turned away just as Martin's body hit the ground.

The last man standing. Or rather, _kneeling_. It didn't get much more pathetic than that.

There was a slight _click_ of a booted foot just in front of him. Footsteps seizing. He opened his eyes and glanced up to find Rick hovering over him. Preying down on him like a damn vulture.

"No point in begging, right?" Gareth forced a pained huff of a laugh. Flinched as a sharp ache shot through his shoulder. Like his body was telling him to just shut up and die with a little dignity. Drop the sarcastic bullshit.

"No." Rick stared.

"We used to help people. We _saved_ people. Until they came in and—" Gareth shivered, lowering his head. Didn't know why he was even trying to explain himself. Everyone was dead. And it was only a matter of time before Rick would kill him, too.

"That guy you had locked up? Looked like he'd been there a while?"

Gareth froze. Slowly moved his head to look back up at Rick as the man continued:

"'We're the _same_'?" Rick narrowed his eyes in what could pass as slight confusion, cocking his head to the side. "I don't care what happened to you or _your people_. Bob told us what happened. What you did to him..."

Gareth tried to find the right words. _Any_ words. But his lip only quivered, eyes following Rick as he stooped down in front of him.

"Where's Carol?"

Gareth was able to slightly smile, voice shaking. "You mean the gray-haired bitch?" He had nothing to do with that woman's disappearance but he was flattered Rick automatically pointed the finger at him. He forced a small laugh, twitching, as he recalled. It was dark out, but he knew what he saw. And just the image in his head—her body crumpling upon impact as that car plowed through her... It provided him with a little humor. Like a little slice of karma. "She got what she deserved."

Rick reached forward then, alerting Gareth of the imminent threat. He removed his hand from his shoulder to try and stop Rick, but the man grabbed his wrist. Used his other hand to dig his thumb into the bullet wound. Gareth gasped. Struggled to pull his trapped hand back while he quickly fumbled for the knife on his belt. There was an arm that snaked around his though, catching in the crook of his elbow and pulling back. A rough grip in his hair.

"You ungrateful piece of _shit_."

Gareth could feel the blood drain from his face, his chest tightening. The pain in his shoulder was enough to make him scream, but he was too stunned to do much of anything. Tried to pull free and shake loose of Rick and Abraham but failed.

_We're the same_.

He quickly shut his eyes and shook his head.

_You never forget your first_.

He opened his eyes again. Chris was twisting his wrist and gripping onto his shoulder harder, the pressure unrelenting. He pushed back against his goon holding him from behind, unable to breathe. Feeling like someone or something was constricting his chest. Like he was drowning.

_I don't think he's quite clean enough_.

Gareth could vaguely feel his legs under him, back on his feet from all his squirming. Pressing against the man holding him to get away from Chris. Chris removed his hands as he straightened his back out, grinning. There were multiple voices talking at once. Voices he could only assume were in his head because there wasn't anyone there. Like they were bickering. Some quiet, some more outspoken. But they all blended together. Indecipherable, as if it was a foreign language.

_You ever been fucked before?_

Chris took a step forward and Gareth tripped backwards. A grip on the back of his collar stopped him from completely collapsing, briefly giving him the recognition that the pressure had let up on his arm and scalp. No longer being held.

_You've become my bitch. And I think it's only fair we make sure everyone knows that._

Gareth tried backing up further before he remembered he still had his pistol. Shakily, he pulled it free from the holster and took aim. Pulled the trigger just as his arm was yanked back, twisted. An arm enclosed around his throat while the gun slipped from his grip. Clawed away with his left hand, his struggles resuming in a wasted attempt.

The room spun, the lack of oxygen suddenly washing over him and making him feel sick.

He could feel himself slipping just before everything went black.


	11. Chapter 13

"I don't think we should have him bound."

"He almost _shot_ me."

"Are you not aware of what just happened?"

Gareth slowly came back around, stirring at the sound of voices not far from him. He could make out a handful of figures. Blinked a few times for his sight to come back into focus. It took a full minute for him to put the pieces together, to try and remember what happened, and where he was. The priest had his back to him, speaking to Rick. Like he was protecting him.

The pain in his shoulder hit him next. He gritted his teeth. Meant to move his arms but quickly found himself trapped, the familiar feeling of zip ties restraining his wrists behind him. Stuck to the post at the front of the church.

"He's awake."

Gareth's attention was drawn to the soft voice. He met Tara's stare as she nervously fiddled with the gun in her hands, pointed in no particular direction with it clutched close to her chest. She looked away, lowering her chin.

There was something of a flutter in his chest when Rick and the priest turned to him next. Anxiety. He didn't understand what was going on. Didn't remember anything after Sasha killed Martin. He was shocked he was even still alive—or at least he was fairly certain he was still alive. It wouldn't be the first time he'd had this vivid of a dream.

He tried to hide the sudden onslaught of panic that washed over him the moment Rick started moving in on him, hand resting on his belt. Next to that red handled machete.

"Rick..."

It was the Archer who spoke up. He was standing beside the priest. Had his gaze lowered to the floor before meeting Gareth's stare. Daryl broke eye contact immediately, turning toward his Ringleader and taking a step forward.

Abraham barred his arm across his chest to stop him right there.

Whatever happened between point A and point B, Gareth was clueless. There was definitely a warning in the way Daryl spoke Rick's name. An understanding, too. Because Rick slightly nodded. Looked a little more at ease.

Rick slowly crouched down in front of Gareth. Had yet to make eye contact himself while Gareth searched him over, nothing else to do.

"Where..." Rick made his agitation known by rolling his jaw and popping his neck. He finally met Gareth's stare as he finished the question: "Where is Carol?"

Gareth was able to gain some of his confidence back after seeing how much Rick was struggling with his own composure. The others must have drilled something in his head, making Gareth untouchable for the time being.

"And what? I tell you what you want to hear... You'll kill me. Hardly seems fair."

Rick smiled one of those silent laughs. "Oh, it's fair."

"Ever heard of negotiating? That's usually how you get someone to coopera—"

Rick's fist collided with Gareth's cheek, jerking his head to the side and knocking him back against the wooden railing.

Maybe he wasn't exactly untouchable after all.

"The only negotiation I'm making with you is how painful your death is gonna be. You answer my questions and I'll promise to make it fast."

Gareth rolled his tongue around in his mouth, the tang of blood quite evident. He narrowed his eyes at Rick and spit in his face. Perhaps it was childish on his behalf, but Rick's reaction was worth it.

Rick flinched at the smallest flecks of crimson splattering across his face, eyes closed, seething. He slowly reached up and made to wipe his face with his hand. Nodded to himself.

"Is she alive?"

Gareth was amazed at Rick's determination over the woman. She must have meant something to him. More so, he was amazed that Rick was putting up with him.

As long as he had the knowledge, he had the upper hand.

Gareth leaned forward the best he could with his arms bound, the strain pulling on his shoulder. Stared Rick right in the eyes. "I. Don't. Know."

There was a shift in the room. The subtle sound of a knife being drawn. Gareth's eyes searched the room, looking passed Rick. Sasha had moved forth, light glinting off the blade she clasped in her hand.

Rick put his hand up, elbow at a 90 degree angle and palm facing forward. He didn't even turn to see who it was.

"Why does he get to live while Bob is in there, _suffering_, with one less leg?" Sasha ground out her words through her teeth.

The room just had an odd vibe about it. Clearly, everyone wanted him dead. But some seemed more hesitant on the matter: wandering eyes unable to make eye contact, needless fidgeting, pacing.

At least the priest seemed to be on his side. Though, if Gareth had to count on that man to convince the others, he was sure as dead. Father didn't have the fight in him. Too passive.

Daryl, on the other hand... He could maybe work with him. Archer seemed to be pretty close with Ringleader.

Tyreese took it upon himself to pull Sasha out of the main room and into the small office. No further words needed as the whole room seemed to shift again.

Rick stood back up, towering over him. Ran a hand over the scruff on his face before turning away, walking a short distance down the aisle between the pews and coming to a stop next to Michonne.

"Maybe we'll have to try a different approach," Gareth could hear the woman almost whisper to Rick. And Rick rested his hands on his hips with a brief nod.

Gareth slightly fidgeted against the banister. His shoulder was making him very aware of his own discomfort with his arms trapped behind him. He tried not to think about it. Any of it. Placed his attention on the people throughout the church. The priest had resigned to sitting in one of the back pews with his face in his hands. Daryl and Abraham weren't too far off from where Rick and Michonne stood, Carl and Judith opposite of them. The others all clung further out to the walls and windows.

But then Rick was on the move again. Gareth followed him with his eyes as he walked back towards him. Only Rick didn't stoop back down though. He veered around him, his boots clicking on the hardwood floor off to the side and behind him. Gareth shut his eyes to try and settle his breathing, listening for Rick's footsteps to gauge where he was. He could hear him coming back around on his opposite side. Looked up just in time to catch him in his peripheral as Rick ended up settling down in front of him again.

It took a moment for Gareth to realize Rick was holding something. A knife. _His_ knife.

Gareth quickly glanced down at his sides to find that his belt was picked clean. All his weapons and holsters had been removed.

"I'm not gonna repeat myself. But this is where you make that decision." Rick reached forward and Gareth found himself slinking back the farthest he could manage. Rick's fingers gripped onto his jacket, pulling it back to expose the shoulder of the blood soaked shirt. Raised the blade with his free hand. And just as the tip of the knife dug into the already existing wound, Gareth immediately tried to kick at Rick, squirming.

He clenched his teeth, his whole body becoming rigid. It felt difficult to breathe with the pressure on his shoulder, Rick plunging the knife a little deeper with each silent second that passed. Gareth wasn't going to scream. He wouldn't.

He couldn't stop the whimper as his head began to swim though.

"Some car hit h—" Gareth couldn't find the words, feeling like the oxygen had been driven from his brain, much less his lungs. Flustered, he quickly rattled off: "_She was hit by a car_."

"What car?"

Gareth gasped as the knife was pressed in deeper, sweat aligning his brow with his eyes squeezed shut. His head fell against the wooden banister at his back with a thump. "I-I don't know..."

A half strangled yelp broke through his lips as Rick slightly twisted the blade.

"_What c_ar?"

"Rick—" Someone had spoken Rick's name in warning again. Gareth couldn't put a face to it though, head clouded with pain.

"It—it was dark. W-white cross."

Almost immediately after, the knife was ripped back, free and clear of his shoulder. His eyes shot open to see Daryl releasing the back of Rick's jacket, Rick on his feet after having been pulled back. The knife in his hand saturated with blood. Maggie had closed in on them as well.

Tears blurred his vision as he tried to figure out what it was that he had said. Why they seemed to jump at the mentioning of a white cross like they'd been burned.

He shut his eyes, a wave a nausea rolling over him. More than one voice began to sound off then. And they slowly faded to silence.

* * *

Gareth awoke to find himself still trapped in the same position, zip-tied to the banister, light filtering through the windows. The church seemed void of any life. No one in sight, no sounds. Even the bodies of his fallen group had been whisked away, leaving nothing but the blood stains on the floor.

He had made it till morning in one piece.

A sharp pain tore through his shoulder then, drawing his attention. He couldn't make anything out except for the blood that soaked through his clothes. Didn't know how bad it was, but if what he was feeling was anything to go by, it wasn't good. He didn't even want to try to move. Hell, he just wanted to pass out again.

"...I'm not givin' up."

"Did you already forget what he did?"

Gareth glanced back towards that room everyone hid in the previous night, a pair of quiet voices breaking the silence as they emerged from the closed off room. It was Maggie and Glenn. And they must have noticed his slight movement because they fell silent again, staring in his direction. He showed no interest in them and turned back to face the front doors. No point in them concluding their conversation on his account.

"I'll be fine. Go get Daryl."

A few seconds later and Glenn was walking past, down the aisle and through the double doors, closing them back up behind him.

Then Maggie made her way into his peripheral. She crept along until she reached the first pew on the right, taking a seat. Gareth glanced over at her and met her stare, momentarily.

"You said you saw a car with a white cross," Maggie began. "That this car... _hit_ Carol?"

Gareth hesitantly nodded, unsure of how to play it off. There wasn't any point in trying to fight them anymore. And since he didn't have his own knife buried in his shoulder, he figured he could elaborate. "Plowed right through her. They stopped long enough to throw her in the car. Then they took off again."

The front doors opened as Maggie nodded to herself. Daryl made an appearance, crossbow slung over his shoulder as he shut the doors. He ultimately set the weapon down against one of the last pews as he made his way towards the front.

"And you have nothing to do with it?" Maggie continued.

"I have no intentions of playing grand theft auto and running people over, no. Even if it _was_ an entertaining sight." Gareth glanced between the two, neither looking all too amused. "That bitch destroyed my home and killed my mom. She got what was coming to her."

"Guess that means you got what was comin' to you, too." Daryl stared. Hard.

Gareth sighed. "I'm not proud of the things I did, alright? I did what I had to do to survive. I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't."

Maggie interjected, "If you could help us out... I'm sure we could return the favor."


	12. Chapter 14

"I am not sticking around another _second_ in this place with him under the same roof and putting Eugene's life in jeopardy. The whole _goddamn world_ in jeopardy!"

"You're not taking the bus!"

"We're not leaving until we get Carol and Beth back!"

"You don't even know where they are or if they're still alive!"

Yet another day had passed and it left Gareth wondering why he was even still alive. The threat of it all just seemed to wash away, becoming mundane. He hadn't been allowed to move from his spot, wrists still secured behind him and keeping him fastened to the banister. It made sleeping a little difficult. The added pain pulsating in his shoulder didn't help—nor did his empty stomach or parched mouth.

Rick's group did their best, for the most part, at keeping everything hush hush. Gareth didn't know any real details of their talks. The latest had him questioning who Beth was, and why they were arguing over a bus. If he didn't know any better, he'd guess that the previous conversations he was able to slightly overhear actually did involve him. Daryl and Maggie wanted him alive. And the priest did, too. What he didn't know was _why_. They had no reason to sort of defend him.

Gareth perked up at the creaking of the office door opening, turning his head to see the priest exiting the room. Everyone seemed to always hide outside and out of sight, probably so what conversations they did have, he didn't hear them. So it was almost a relief to see someone.

"Hey, Father. Missing out on all the fun," Gareth commented, nodding his head towards the front.

The man only stared back at him, frozen. Looked almost like he'd seen a ghost. Apparently Gareth had that effect on him. Especially when he made any sort of acknowledgment.

Gareth's eyes followed him as the man cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. He started walking for the doors himself before Gareth added, fidgeting: "Help me out here, Father. You gotta let me go... You know if you don't, they'll kill me. Rick will kill me. And that'll be on you."

It got his attention.

The priest stopped in his tracks and lowered his head. Contemplating, or so it seemed. He backtracked after a brief moment, making his way back towards his little office. Somewhere in the vicinity behind Gareth and out of sight.

He came back with a half-empty bottle of water.

"It's... all I have to offer."

Gareth raised an eyebrow. "I appreciate the thought, but unless you're gonna feed me like a baby, my hands are a little tied."

"I—" he stammered, "I cannot..."

"You can't trust me. I get it." Gareth looked him over. Wondered why the man found it necessary to still wear that godawful attire, seeing as the world ended. Regardless, he shrugged it off. Furrowed his brow. "You got a name?"

"Gabriel. Gabriel Stokes." He slightly spun the bottle in his hands, twisting it around, the plastic crinkling obnoxiously. Nervous.

"Well, Gabriel... Seeing as you're about the only one here who isn't an asshole... Thanks."

Gareth snapped his head in the direction of a new squeak in the floorboards, little coos echoing off the walls. Rick's kids. They must have been hiding in the back too. He locked eyes with Carl for a fleeting moment. The kid was definitely working on that same menacing glare as Rick. Like father like son.

"Why are you talking to him?" Carl looked to the priest. Judith was occupied with her fist in her mouth, drooling all over the place. And even _she_ looked at Gareth funny, her little features all scrunched up.

"He's a man of God. Isn't it his duty to provide a dying guy a bit of comfort, even if the gestures are out of fear?" Gareth smirked. Maybe if he continued to be hellbent on being an asshole himself, it could speed things along. He wasn't getting anywhere playing nice. And evoking something such as fear, no matter who it was, could always prove to be entertaining.

"Not for you." Carl adjusted Judith in his arms, hiking her up a little further against his chest. "You're just another bad guy. And we're not afraid of you."

"Aren't we all? Can't really classify a person as solely _bad_ though."

"You tried to _kill_ us. And you ate Bob's leg—"

"Enough. Please." Gabriel raised both his hands in the air. If Gareth wasn't mistaken, he seemed a bit woozy at that last remark. "Just leave him be. You're only instigating."

Gareth stared down at the floor beside him. He couldn't help but grin in the slightest with Gabriel seemingly taking his side again. The Grimes family shot down _again_. What was that saying? Enjoy the simple things in life?

He certainly took pleasure in seeing the spawn of Rick Grimes stalk across the church with a new, sullen demeanor. Like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Of course, that miniature swell of pride left just as fast as it came.

The moment Carl opened those doors to go outside, Rick was in sight. Even from that distance Gareth could feel his piercing eyes practically burning a hole through him.

Rick turned his attention away, back to whomever he was directing his words to as he pointed inside the church. "He knows, right? It's the reason we're keeping him alive? He'll take us to them. Then we go to Washington."

Abraham blocked the doorway just long enough before he closed the doors, shutting Gareth out of their meeting once again.

It took him another moment longer before he realized Gabriel left too, apparently retreating into his office again.

Gareth sighed, slightly clonking his head against the banister. At this rate, he'd die of boredom before starvation. And he'd die of starvation before Rick would ever follow through with his threat.

The reverberating sounds of footsteps reappeared as Gareth turned his head. Gabriel decided to come back. Only this time, his arms were full in comparison to the measly water bottle he had previously. He registered what some of the stuff was the priest carried—gauze, bandages, a bottle of what looked to be whiskey. The fact that the man even had alcohol lying around in his church was thought-provoking.

Gareth shook his head the second it all clicked. "Not gonna happen. Save it, you'll need the supplies."

"It's my church. And these are my supplies." Gabriel set the few items down on the floor next to Gareth. "So they are my supplies to waste, if that is the case."

"Does common sense go right over your head? Unless you let me go, I'm _dead._What's the point? Just save it." There was no way he'd let Gabriel touch his shoulder. If it were up to him, no one would be coming anywhere near it, let alone trying to "patch it up". But he really didn't have any power over the situation other than his words. Unfortunately, with where Gabriel took a knee beside him, it left Gareth with no way of being able to kick him.

Gabriel chose to ignore him. For being awful cowardly minutes earlier, he sure seemed to grow a pair out of thin air.

"...Do you not want the help?"

Gareth slowly averted his attention back to the man. He hadn't realized he had brought his knees in as close as possible, having shut his eyes and rested his head on the banister again. Gabriel was staring, his eyes flitting over Gareth—reading his body language, apparently. Gareth felt as though he resembled a pouting child, but there was a hint of concern in Gabriel's features.

His voice fell flat, "Just leave me alone."

Not only did he feel like a pouting child, Gabriel probably took him as bipolar or something. For all Gareth knew, he could be. There was a part of him that actually wanted someone around earlier. Just somebody's presence nearby so that he wasn't alone. And now, if he could, he would have kicked Gabriel just to get him away.

"You... mumble in your sleep," Gabriel paused. He sat down on the floor completely now, legs folded in front of him. Like it was story time. "It's none of my business—"

"You're right. It's not," Gareth retorted, malice in his voice. How was it that the priest became the most irritating of all? He didn't want help. Never asked for it. He certainly didn't want anyone prying. When they stumbled upon Rick's group outside of Terminus, after everything was gone, Gareth thought he wanted revenge. Truth was, maybe he knew they'd all be killed. Maybe he gave up.

Maybe it was just the easy way out.

Terminus was gone. Alex. Their mom. Revenge wasn't going to bring any of that back. And had he stopped putting up walls, stopped shutting them out, maybe he wouldn't have felt so shitty for how things ended. His last words to Alex were something along the lines of "it's okay" and "shut up". And he might have been able to save their mom.

What a great brother and son he turned out to be.

"I—I just want to help." Gabriel placed a hand over his chest, taken aback.

Gareth shut his eyes, almost twitching with impatience. He felt overcome with a mix of emotions. A lot of it he had just kept bottled up over time. Over days, weeks, months. Anger, grief. Frustration. And Gabriel was stirring the pot.

Before he could snap, there were rushed footsteps clicking across the floor off to Gareth's right. He glanced over to find Sasha covering her mouth, her face tear-streaked, heading for the exit.

Gareth met Gabriel's stare and nodded his head in Sasha's direction. "Go."


	13. Chapter 15

"The next bullet will be in your leg if you try anything."

Gareth was freed, Rick cutting the zip ties. He slowly moved his hands in front of him, wincing at the pain in his shoulder due to the movement. Not only the wound but his shoulders in general. He just felt stiff after having been tied up for two and a half days.

Gareth glanced up at Rick, rubbing his wrist, as he circled back around in sight. "You have my word. I'll behave."

Rick vaguely nodded before gesturing to stand. "Get up."

And while Gareth didn't think twice about Rick's command, getting up on his feet in an instant though a little lightheaded, he noticed Rick had something in his hands. Moving it around and drawing attention to it.

Another damn zip tie.

"Come on, Rick," Gareth sighed, exasperated. "I told you, you have my word."

"Words don't mean shit," Abraham fired off. "Especially coming from the likes of you."

The look on Rick's face said he agreed with Abraham, head cocked to the side. So, Gareth didn't fight it. He raised his hands in front of him, palms facing each other. Watched as Rick took a step forward and closed the plastic back around his wrists, clicking until it was pulled firm.

"Going somewhere?" Gareth let his arms rest. Tried to hide the wince of pain from his shoulder again. He could already tell that moving his arms in the slightest was going to be a bitch. But he'd been through it before.

"That doesn't concern you."

Rick checked his pistol before sliding it back into the holster on his belt. He rummaged through a duffel bag perched on one of the pews, pulling almost a full bottle of water from it. Gareth noticed he glanced over at someone and gave a slight nod, momentarily returning his gaze to the water. The next thing he knew, that bottle was practically hurtling at him—or at least it may as well have been, considering Gareth barely had any reaction time. It hit him in the chest as he flinched, awkwardly fumbling to grab it before it hit the ground.

It hit the floor by his feet.

"A little heads up would be nice..." Gareth swore he could feel his face flush as he muttered those words. He crouched down to retrieve it, thankful regardless of the display. Mentally cursing because the movement still wasn't welcomed. If Rick hadn't secured his wrists again, he'd be able to keep his right arm stationary.

Gareth wasn't too concerned with Rick and what his plans currently consisted of. He just popped the cap off the bottle and guzzled half of it, only watching out of curiosity. Rick, Abraham, Sasha, and Michonne. They were gearing up to leave, holstering weapons and grabbing a couple packs to throw over their shoulders. He could only guess it was some sort of supply run. Or maybe they were just going out to scout the area. Maybe they didn't believe him when he told them about—what's her name?—Carol getting hit by a car. What were the odds of that in an apocalypse, anyway?

When those four _did_ leave, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He could breathe a little easier.

He kept a hold of his bottle of water. Slightly paced before sitting on the first pew to the left. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, and he did his best to avoid each and every one. Though he did look up long enough to catch Archer staring at him from his position, leaning against the wall across from where he sat. Where Albert had been killed with a bullet to the back of his head.

Oddly enough, Judith was the first to break the silence. She started fussing, wriggling around in the little makeshift basket-crib. Carl made his way over and swooped her up into his arms the second her cries reverberated.

"Do you know anything else about these people? Where they could have went?"

Gareth turned his head to see Maggie standing against the wall to his left, Glenn beside her. It took him a moment before he realized she was indeed talking to him, and that she was talking about that mysterious vehicle.

He shook his head. "The only thing I can do is take you to where I saw the car drive by."

"Maggie—" Glenn reached out to grab Maggie's arm as she stepped forward and shrugged away.

"This isn't just about Carol though. It's Beth, too." She looked to Daryl. "You said it yourself. A car with a white cross on the back took her. This is the closest we've been to finding these people. To finding _her_."

"...Who's Beth?" Gareth interrupted. He recalled that name being mentioned before, too.

"She's my sister." Maggie's attention was back on him. "We were all separated, and Daryl saw a similar car take off with her."

Gareth sighed. Licked his lips. "Look, I'm sorry about your sister, but chances are—"

"She's _missing_, not dead."

There was a bang on the door, bringing the conversation to a close. The room shifted, everyone's eyes turned towards the noise. Another bang. Then two more. Each getting louder until a familiar growl resounded above it.

Daryl had made his way over to the window closest to the door, carefully sneaking a peek, crossbow in hand. "We got company. Lot of 'em."

Gareth got back on his feet and turned to face that general direction. With the dead banging against the door, it could go either way: good or bad.

"Another herd? How?" Tara inquired. "There's no way..."

There was a creaking on the door as the wood started to give. Daryl threw himself in front and propped his back against it to counter the weight. "You got another exit?"

All eyes were on Gabriel then. The man didn't do so well under pressure, his mouth ajar, blubbering like a fish out of water. He nodded eagerly, pointing to his office. "The floorboards. Some of them are lose and can be pried up. We can crawl out of here."

"Might wanna start workin' on it then," Daryl's voice was strained. He was beginning to struggle with the doors, daylight starting to shine through the small cracks. Gareth found himself moving forward, pressing his back against the doors as well.

"Every little bit helps, right?" Gareth glanced over at Daryl, receiving a nod. If he wasn't allowed a weapon and his wrists were still bound, he figured this was about the only thing he could do to help. He had to protect his own ass too.

Gabriel fled into his office, ushering for the others to follow. Eugene was the first to squeeze through everyone and hide in the room, Tyreese and Carl right behind him. Maggie, Rosita, Glenn, and Tara all readied their weapons with their backs to them.

Gunfire erupted the second Gareth and Daryl simultaneously pushed away from the doors. Their weight had been the only thing keeping the dead out because they were flooding into the church immediately after. Bodies dropped one by one. Daryl swung his crossbow at one before drawing his knife and attacking. Then the others started approaching, machetes and knives at the ready.

Gareth weaseled his way by them and towards the back. He wasn't going to fight unless he absolutely had to. He'd save himself the pain from jostling his arm around too much, irritating his shoulder further.

Carl popped into the doorway to the office. "Come on!"

Once Gareth slid into the room, he saw Tyreese squeezing his way through the floorboards first. Then Eugene and Gabriel. The others were trying to make their way back while the dead just kept pushing on.

The cherry on top was Judith's shrill cries.

"Go, kid!" Gareth nodded towards the hole in the floor, snapping Carl out of whatever daze he was in with Judith hugged to his chest. He didn't have to repeat himself. Carl immediately hopped down and was out of sight in no time.

Quickly scanning the room, Gareth found his knife and gun sitting on the desk. There was a brief moment of hesitation, but ultimately, he knew he couldn't just leave them there. He grabbed them and slid them both back into their respective holsters fastened onto his belt before following after Carl and Judith.

It was only more chaos as Gareth surfaced from the underside of the church. Tyreese was yelling something about going back around to the front to attack from behind. Gabriel and Eugene were rendered useless, hugging close to the walls of the building. Carl balanced Judith in one arm while he pulled his pistol, shooting if they came near.

As bad as it seemed, this was his chance. He could get away and they'd never catch him. Not like this.

And before Gareth could think it through any further than that, he started to make a break for it. Unnoticed. Everyone was too preoccupied with the dead.

Until Gabriel started screaming.

Gareth slowed to a stop and turned around. One of them had grabbed onto his arm while Eugene had started shoving another one away. Carl whipped around and aimed his pistol. But that was it. Right there. Carl had left his back exposed to the oncoming bodies as one came barreling around the corner.

Unnoticed.

Carl shot the dead one off Gabriel and was then able to get the one Eugene was struggling with. Gareth pulled his own pistol and took aim from where he was. Lined it up with the body just behind Carl and pulled the trigger, the kid practically jumping out of his skin. The gunshot gave away his location because Carl immediately locked onto him.

Gareth lowered his gun and took off. He didn't necessarily have a direction in mind. He just knew he had to get away. There was no point in helping them. They were just another group of assholes, living among the dead and other groups of assholes. Besides, he helped Carl. And Judith, by default. That had to count for something.

He kept going until he reached an abandoned car on the side of the road. The same car he had seen Carol fiddling around with before she ended up getting run over and taken. He hadn't even realized that was the direction he had chosen, but he was thankful for it. If he could find the keys, if the engine could still turn over, he could put _miles_ between him and Rick's group.

Gareth glanced around at his surroundings briefly before pulling his knife. He cautiously worked the blade against the zip tie, pressing and sawing the best he could. It proved to be a lot more difficult than he imagined, but after using the roof of the car to wedge the knife just right, the tie snapped. He checked the driver's side door and got in upon finding it unlocked, scouring over the front in search for a key. The fact that the accessories worked, the overhead light coming on, meant that the battery was still good. He flipped the visor down, checked the glovebox, checked the center console, the floor...

_Dammit_.

A hand slammed against the window, startling him. He leaned towards the center and looked over to see a... _walker_ pawing at the glass. It dragged its face across the window, rotten teeth barred and chomping away.

Gareth propped the door open a crack before throwing it open with enough force to send the body stumbling. He exited the car and drew his knife again, awkwardly holding it with his left hand and managing to drive the blade through its skull. The deadweight almost caused him to stumble himself, his knife embedded a little too deep and dragging him with it as it hit the ground. It didn't help that he was right handed, that arm out of commission.

He pulled the knife free, and while still in a somewhat crouched position, he wiped the blade in the grass a bit before dragging it across the walker's clothing. It'd have to do.

Gareth holstered the blade as he straightened out his back. He gripped his right bicep, a sudden pain shooting through his shoulder and downward. Figured he should probably do something about that, though he wasn't sure what. He wasn't exactly capable of digging a bullet out of his own shoulder.

He certainly wasn't expecting the voice behind him:

"Put your hands in the air."


	14. Chapter 16

**I've reworked this chapter, as well as reposted all previous chapters. I'm hoping I have renewed my muse, since I got the chance to meet Andrew (who plays Gareth) and got to see him in a couple panels. So, yeah, I want to really give this story and Gareth justice. (By the way, Andrew and his wife, Amber, are the most adorable people you could ever meet. Ever. And even _more_ attractive in person. Like, how is that even possible?)**

* * *

A smirk broke out across Gareth's face as he forced a small laugh. Of course Rick would find him. The one guy who wasn't even there when shit went down and he still managed to find him.

"I think it's safe to assume we both know that isn't necessary." Gareth obliged anyway, raising both arms at least enough to show Rick that he was unarmed. He felt unnerved with his back to the man, unaware if there was anyone else with him yet not quite stupid enough to turn and risk being shot again. It didn't work out so well the last time.

There was a rough hand on his left wrist before that arm was twisted behind his back. He was led the few feet back to the car, being pushed against it, Rick's free hand gripping his hair long enough to press his face to the roof of the vehicle.

"Keep your head down and don't move."

Rick kept a hold of his wrist while the other hand searched his belt. Gareth couldn't help but twitch as he heard his knife and pistol hit the ground somewhere off to the side, discarded.

"You wanna frisk me too? I might have stashed my rifle inside my jacket." Gareth tried to keep his voice as steady as possible. He liked to think he was successful in doing so, Rick's response seeming agitated:

"Don't be a smartass."

"Why not? It's the one charming quality about me." Gareth's wrist was released, Rick's lingering presence having let up from his back. He slowly turned around to face him. "Would this be a bad time to tell you this is where I saw the infamous hit and run?"

Rick looked anything but amused. His right hand was resting on his belt. Right next to his own pistol. He glanced off into the distance, squinting, before returning his attention to him. And damn, did the guy really start to piss him off with all the silence and secrecy.

"Why haven't you killed me yet? That's what you want, right?" Gareth tried to engage him. Tried to poke the bear, fuel the fire. Tried to get _some_ kind of response out of him. Gareth looked him over before continuing, "Kill me and run back to your merry little band of misfits. Tell them I drew on you and you shot me before I could pull the trigger. You get to be the hero and everyone wins."

Rick was staring down at the ground now, both hands perched on his hips. His tongue flicked across his lips as he smiled, nodding his head. Slowly raised his head to meet Gareth's stare. "What happened?"

Gareth furrowed his brow at Rick's behavior. What the hell was wrong with this guy? He didn't know how to read him, but he half expected Rick to pull a fast one—expected Rick to pull that machete and gut him without a second thought.

"I told you. She was hit by a car with a white cross on the back. Then you all freaked out—"

"I'm not talking about Carol, or that car. What happened to _you_."

Gareth stared. For the first time since he could remember, he was at an absolute loss for words. Now _he_ felt like Gabriel, mouth slightly ajar. Searching for a response he didn't have because why was Rick inquiring about him?

"Daryl seems convinced that you've been through some shit. Gabriel told me my head was too clouded with rage to see it." Rick tilted his head and Gareth felt like he was mirroring him, puzzled. "You like talking, then _talk_."

Gareth could only blink, unable to focus. He felt cornered. Could feel a slight rush of adrenaline, heart pounding, telling him to fight or get the hell out of there. What kind of game was Rick playing at?

It took a moment for Gareth to compose himself, but he forced half a laugh. A faint smirk playing on his lips. "Why does it matter?" He shut his eyes momentarily, taking a deep breath in through his nose, tilting his head to the side. When he opened his eyes again, he stared back at Rick. "You'll kill me no matter how this ends. Whenever you get the balls, that is. I don't know if this is all just some sort of game you're playing, trying to hold me in suspense, but I'm over it."

Gareth started to turn away, taking one step in the direction where he heard his weapons hit the ground. He couldn't even see them from where he was standing, the grass hiding them. But the click of Rick's revolver being loaded stopped him in his tracks. He smiled, nodding. Turned to look back at Rick again, finding the man had raised his gun. "See? This is what I'm talking about."

"I'm giving you the option to explain yourself. Most people I've crossed paths with don't get that luxury."

"I'm only alive because some of your group thinks I can help find that bitch and some little girl that got herself lost. I don't know any more than you do. So, I'll ask again. Why haven't you killed me yet, Rick?" Gareth could feel his blood almost start to boil, frustrated. When Rick still couldn't answer the question, nor pull the trigger, Gareth ended up closing the gap between them, the revolver pointed directly into his chest. Point blank range.

"You wanna know what happened to me? You want me to tell you the story of how we helped people? The reason why we made those signs in the first place?" Gareth's voice started to shake as he continued, "How we let a group of _three_ men in because one was injured and we wanted to help? How those three men multiplied into at least twelve and ambushed us? How they killed anyone who tried to run, or how they locked us up, or how they _raped_ and _tortured_ us for twenty-four fucking days?"

Gareth didn't break eye contact with Rick. He refused to. If Rick wanted his story, he was going to make damn sure he got it. His voice still shook, "Or maybe how we were left to eat nothing but our own people as they were served up on a fucking platter. We didn't have anything to defend ourselves with. I did the only thing I could. I _offered_ to be the victim. To try and protect my mom and brother. The only thing I had left."

Rick looked away and started to lower his gun, shaking his head. And that only served to infuriate Gareth more.

"Guess you know how that all seemed to work out," Gareth spat. "Feel better about yourself now?" He turned back to trying to find his weapons, disregarding Rick. He quickly wiped at his face before there was any evidence of tears. He'd be damned if he'd show any emotion over what had been done months ago; it was all in the past. He caught a glimpse of his knife through the grass, the sun reflecting off the blade. Before he even had the chance to grab it, he felt his right leg give way before there was a rough hand on the back of his collar, pressed face first into the grass. Rick had knocked him down, knee digging into his back and his left arm hiked behind him. He grit his teeth in frustration.

"You expect me to feel sorry for you? To trust you?" He could hear it in the tone of Rick's voice. Rick thought he was bullshitting him. "One of my group is dead because of you."

"The only thing I expect from you is to make up your goddamn mind!" Gareth briefly tried to push Rick off. He immediately reached for his knife the best he could, his shoulder not wanting to cooperate with him. But Rick grabbed the blade first, stabbing it into the ground out of his reach entirely. "He was dead before we even grabbed him!"

There was a faint growl from somewhere behind him, Gareth unable to turn his head to see. A walker. He figured Rick would have to let him up now, and when he did, he'd grab his knife and make a run for it. Only he didn't anticipate Rick pulling him back to his feet by his jacket and throwing him towards where the growl came from, opposite of where his knife was half buried in the ground.

Gareth just barely caught his footing and grabbed onto the walker's outstretched arm, struggling to push it back. He managed to get a hand under its chin and throw it against the nearest tree, bashing its head into the rough surface before letting it drop motionlessly. He turned to see a small herd had made an appearance, another grabbing onto him while Rick fought off a few on his own with his machete. Gareth threw the walker off him the best he could, it stumbling and falling face first off to his side. Then he registered another coming right at him, having just enough time to grab it by its arm. Only the skin seemed to slide right off, along with any grip he had. The walker's teeth brushed against his jacket before he was able to get another grasp on it, struggling to knock it to the ground as well. A grip on his shoulder startled him; another walker clinging to him before he could dispose of the first one. Panicking, he tried to shake it off, his arms wanting to give out on him, his shoulder screaming in pain. He didn't know why he was still fighting. He could have just as easily given up and let the walkers win. Let Rick win.

But a gunshot rang out, the pressure against his back letting up immediately after. Another walker was ambling towards him and he cursed under his breath, finally finding the strength to shove the walker he was originally struggling with to the side. It smacked into the abandoned car, stunned, at about the same time Gareth ended up tripping over the walker that had been behind him, now currently sporting a gunshot wound to the head. The fall stunted him, having no way to catch himself, dizzy. Then there were hands on him. Grabbing him by his arms and pulling him back up. Pulling him away from the chaos. He could vaguely make out Rick through the swarming walkers and that's what finally snapped Gareth out of his slight daze.

That gunshot hadn't come from Rick—he was too occupied trying to kill his own walkers. Gareth tried to pull his arms back, fighting to get free from whoever had him. "Get your hands off me, asshole!"

"Keep him restrained."

"Rotter on your left."

Another gunshot caused him to flinch, the grip on his left arm having let up. He quickly tried to turn and face the guy who had a hold on his right arm, to try and fight back. But the minute he took in his appearance, he froze.

"Let's go!"

Gareth was dragged towards a car parked on the road not too far from where they all stood now. He didn't have any fight left in him, his strength gone. He was able to steal one last glance in Rick's direction. The bearded man seemed to lock eyes with him. Realized what was going on, but unable to do much under the circumstances. And all Gareth could think as he was shoved into the backseat of the vehicle was that he'd much prefer a group of assholes he kind of knew over a group of assholes that could do God knows what.


	15. Chapter 17

**Sorry it's short. But it's keeping the story going. Much love to the few of you who are still hanging in there. **

* * *

"_If there aren't any signs of improvement by tonight, we're done. We just don't have the supplies._"

Gareth slowly came back around, vision blurred, blinking. He furrowed his brow as his brain registered a woman's voice, distant. Not one that he recognized, but a voice, regardless. It took him another moment to realize he was indoors. Lying in a bed with white sheets and wearing a hospital gown. Inside a hospital. It had him questioning if everything had been a dream; one long, vivid nightmare. Until there was a dull pain in his shoulder.

He pulled the shoulder of the gown back to expose gauze bandages covering what he remembered to be a wound. Picking at the tape, he was able to pull the gauze back enough to see what looked like a stitched up incision. Then his eyes traveled just to the left of that, seeing the scar from Chris still carved into his skin. As if he couldn't believe it, he brushed his fingers over the raised scar tissue, blinking more.

The next thing he knew, he was reaching for the IV in his arm, ready to pull it out. Whatever happened, he couldn't remember. All of the details were fuzzy. How long had he been out? How long had he been kept in some bed with an IV feeding who-knows-what into him? But just as he pulled the tape up off his arm, a voice stopped him from pulling the needle out of his skin.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Gareth froze, glancing up towards the foot of his bed and near the door. He furrowed his brow once more, confusion setting in further. The guy looked like a doctor. It was like nothing ever happened. Like the end of the world really was a dream after all. But he had the scars. They were real.

"It was hard enough to get that needle in in the first place. You were pretty dehydrated when we found you."

Gareth glanced back down at the IV before dropping his arm. He placed a hand on either side of him and propped himself up a bit, slightly struggling to do so. He felt like he'd been hit by a damn truck: zero strength what-so-ever, body aching. "Who the hell are you?"

The man let out a slight chuckle. "I'm Dr. Edwards, but you can call me Steven." He approached the side of the bed, Gareth's eyes following him. As soon as he raised a hand, Gareth flinched away, not trusting the strange man. But he seemed to frown as he withdrew his hand back to his own side. "How are you feeling?"

Before Gareth could reply, another figure popped into the room. A woman dressed in an all black uniform. A cop outfit; badge, radio, and all.

"You're awake," she stated. Quite possibly the voice he had heard as he was waking. She looked over the doctor before placing her hands on her hips, eyes meeting Gareth's shortly after. "We didn't think you were going to make it. But I had some hope. This man saved your life, you know. We saved your life."

Gareth vaguely shook his head. "I was with someone." He recalled being by that car. The abandoned car whatshername was trying to take the other day. And Rick was there. Rick had found him after escaping the church when it got overrun. Then they were swarmed themselves, the herd must have migrated.

The woman slowly shook her head, a look of confusion on her face. "You were alone. My people found you out there. And if they hadn't found you when they did, I can't say you'd still be alive. That infection you had was enough to kill you, with or without the rotters help. Luckily, Dr. Edwards here was able to find the right stuff and get you straightened out. It took a couple days, but it looks like you're doing a lot better now than you were."

"Days?" That was the first thing that had stood out to Gareth.

"We found you and brought you in. You were barely conscious. The infection in your shoulder... I did a little surgery and dug a bullet out. Most likely the culprit. You got lucky though. If the trajectory had been any different, you could have lost all functionality of that arm. If it had hit the right nerve. Or it could have killed you a lot faster if it had hit an artery. But you're on the path to recovery now," Steven explained.

The woman nodded. "We did a lot for you. So, you owe us in return. When you're feeling up to it, I'll find a job for you."

"I didn't ask for any help. I was with someone and—"

"The fever was worse than I thought." She seemed to force a frown. Glancing back to the doctor, she continued, "I'll send Beth over." And that was the last thing she spoke before turning on her heels and walking out the door.

Beth? Why did that name sound familiar? Gareth's head was a little too clouded and confused to think straight.

"That's Dawn. She runs the place. We have a bit of a system here..." Steven shoved his hands in his pockets. "Nothing to worry about though. I assure you, everything's fine. How's your pain? I've been giving you a small dose of pain medication through your IV so that when you did wake up, it hopefully wouldn't be too bad. Plus, I'm guessing it must have helped a bit with the fever too. You don't look nearly as ill as you did."

"It's fine," Gareth muttered. Compared to how his shoulder felt before ending up in a hospital, he felt a lot better.

The doctor slightly nodded his head. "Good. That's good. We'll try to keep you hydrated. That's my number one concern right now. And keep you on antibiotics." There was a soft knock on the door frame, alerting both Steven's and Gareth's attention. Steven smiled. "This is Beth. I think she can help you from here. Maybe get you some food?"

Gareth didn't reply. He just watched as the man walked for the door, stopping briefly by Beth and muttering something to her as she nodded. He turned back to Gareth and smiled before taking off down the hall.

He looked Beth over, immediately noticing the stitched up cut across her cheek and arm cast. Clean, pressed scrubs and her blonde hair pulled back into a long ponytail. He wasn't sure what to make of her, but he couldn't help but smile. Almost holding back a small laugh.

"What? Somethin' funny?" Beth inquired, stepping further into the room. Her eyes flicked over him, noticeably landing on his injured shoulder before she turned her attention back to the IV pole.

"Is this the place where broken people get taken to?" Gareth nodded towards her arm. "You look like shit."

Beth had half a glare on her face when she met his stare, her blue eyes locked onto his hazel. "I could say the same about you." Her face fell into more of a natural look, void of any particular emotion. "They found me and brought me here. I've been helping out to do what I can. I could probably take a look at your shoulder again, since it looks like you've tried to pull the bandaging off."

Gareth carefully patted the gauze back down and adjusted the gown so that it covered more of his shoulder. "Not necessary." He watched her move as she took down the IV drip, the bag near empty. "Beth, right?"

The blonde girl flashed a small smile and nod. "And you are?"

"Gareth." Saying his own name felt weird on his tongue. He didn't typically introduce himself. Or at least he hadn't done so in so long, it just felt odd. He turned his arm more so that Beth could get to the needle, her small hands cautiously pulling off the rest of the tape and pulling the IV completely from his arm before tossing all of it into a waste bin.

"Well, Gareth," Beth started, brushing her hands over her pant legs. "There's a change of clothes on the table. And if you're feeling up for it, how about a tour of the place? Dr. Edwards suggested it's best for getting your strength back. To get you up and walkin'. Then we can see about some food."

It all felt too strange. Too much like a dream. Looking back at what he came from, what he'd been through, to wake up to civilized human beings? In a hospital, no less.

Gareth glanced over at the table to see a pair of scrubs similar to Beth's folded neatly. "What happened to my own clothes?"

"They're, um, they're being washed. Dawn likes everything to be nice and neat. And she prefers that we all wear scrubs while we're here. To do our part." Beth looked down at her feet, partially mumbling. Like a lost little girl.

It clicked then. The lost little girl, Beth. She was a part of Rick's group. The one that had supposedly been taken by a car with a white cross. Maggie's sister.

Gareth had become lost in his thoughts the moment it hit him, barely registering Beth saying that she'd be back as she left, closing the door behind her. If that was truly Beth, the Beth they were looking for... She was taken. She didn't willingly show up at this place. Just the same as Gareth. These people were full of shit to say that he was alone when they found him. Like he was completely out of it. He knew for a fact that he was with Rick. They had grabbed him and taken him before Rick could do anything, whether Rick planned to do anything or not.

No matter the set up, or how nice everything seemed: these people were not to be trusted.


End file.
